Remnants of the Payday Crew
by Nemo the Unknown
Summary: After a heist gone wrong, Dallas, Chains, Wolf, and Houston find themselves in another world. Meanwhile, Torchwick is going to need some help if he wants to collect enough dust to keep Cinder happy, and it looks like he's found just the guys to do it. Hey, everyone needs a Payday, even in another world.
1. Chapter 1

Remnants of the Payday Crew

"I got a bad fuckin' feeling about this..." Houston muttered as he checked his gear one last time. The other three men sitting in the cramped van next to him couldn't help but agree. Whenever Vlad was involved in a heist, it was a safe bet that things would get weird. It didn't help that he also had a tendency to tell the crew the bare minimum of what they needed to know. Whether it was busting up a mall, tracking down goats, or heisting nuclear warheads out of a secure facility, If any of the contractors was going to inadvertently get the crew killed, it was Vlad.

"Least it's only a couple of guards..." Wolf replied, breaking Houston's train of thought.

"Not many guards doesn't mean light security." Chains shot back, uncharacteristically quiet. He had a point. It was always a pain to have a heist go off without a hitch only to get caught by a hidden camera or stray civilian.

"Don't worry brother," Dallas put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, "I got your back." They didn't always see eye-to-eye, but they were still brothers, and Houston knew he could count on him in a tricky situation.

"Alright guys listen up," Bain's voice crackled over the radio. "This should be a pretty simple heist, but that doesn't mean it'll be easy. Those 'Zeal Team' assholes make GenSec's Elites look like rent-a-cops, so let's go over the plan one last time." There was a pause as Bain pulled up information, the tapping on his keyboard audible over the radio, "Vlad's hired us to steal some sort of prototype device. Wouldn't tell me what it was, just said 'you'll know it when you see it'." The entire crew took a moment to say a mental 'fuck you' to Vlad before Bain continued on. "Anyway, we're headed to a small lab owned by DARPA. I'm sure that means whatever Vlad has us going after, it's not something we wanna fuck around with, so just be careful."

* * *

Bain reclined in his seat as he waited for the heisters to reach their destination. He had already set up all of his surveillance, and decided to take a few minutes to look back on whatever information he could get pulled up on the lab the crew was about to hit. Apparently, it was a small lab owned by the government, under the control of DARPA. There was frustratingly little for him to dredge up, though. What little he could find seemed to suggest that they were researching 'new technologies for streamlining logistical support'. Which was a fancy way of saying shipping and transport.

Still, Bain had managed to crack into part of the local intranet, and what he saw didn't make any sense. There were all kinds of complicated equations and problems, and a lot of them seemed to be related to physics, or some other devilishly complicated and technical science. It reminded him of that lab Jimmy had hired the crew to hit, but not blatantly evil. He was expecting a similar amount of resistance too, especially with the appearance of 'Zeal Team' at some of the crew's more recent heists. If the DHS was getting involved, then maybe it was time to move on from DC. _Oh well,_ he thought, _one step at a time, I suppose._ He needed to get his head back in the game, the gang was just about ready to start off the heist.

* * *

As the van started pulling up to its destination, Houston performed one last quick check of his weapons. He wielded a Compact-5, and looked it over one last time to ensure it was locked and loaded; more out of habit than anything else. He also kept a pistol with him, for emergencies, which he checked as well. Satisfied with his own gear, he checked at the other three members of the crew, and what they were carrying. Chains had the heaviest guns, of course. He carried a KSP, which he was currently loading a box of ammo into. He cut an imposing figure in the Improved Combined Tactical Vest armored suit he wore, which some of the crew had taken to calling the 'Dozer Suit'. Houston had no idea just how he managed to carry so much weight. He had tried wearing that thing himself, once, and he had gotten winded just walking around the safe house. Houston preferred to just sick with the classic suit and not get shot in the first place. Wolf and Dallas both wore Combined Tactical Vest armor, with the former using a Locomotive Shotgun and GL40, and the latter having an AMR-16 rifle, though Dallas usually preferred to use his Bronco. Houston's thoughts were interrupted when Bain came back over the radio.

"30 seconds til you arrive, get your masks on, Clowns." The four men obeyed, and the van began pulling to a stop outside the lab.

"Everyone on my six, let's go." Chains spoke up, opening the back of the van and jumping out as he did. Dallas and Wolf stepped out behind him, and Houston followed in the rear. They quickly ran ran to the front door and stepped in, as Dallas stepped up to take control of the handful of civilians in the lobby. There was a singular guard up front, just some regular street cop, like the ones that were employed all over the city, and Dallas dispatched him quickly with a single shot.

"Get down on the ground!" Wolf shouted at the three or four civilians as the rest of the crew moved to tie them up, to make sure they couldn't alert the cops the moment the crew turned their backs. With all of the civilians up front taken care of, the crew split up to begin searching for whatever device Vlad seemed so hell-bent on acquiring.

* * *

Wolf volunteered to check the first lab the crew came across, and after picking a simple lock, stepped inside to check for the device. Inside, however, there seemed to only be whiteboards and tables covered with various scientific papers, all of them displaying various complex diagrams and equations. He didn't understand most of it, but there were some weird looking diagrams that reminded him of a sci-fi B-movie. Besides that, though, it was clear from just a quick scan that whatever they were hunting was not here, and he stepped back outside, only managing to take a couple of steps down the hall before Bain alerted the team over the radio.

"Heads up crew, police radio's lighting up. You've got 30 seconds before first responders arrive." He cursed, and changed direction, heading back towards the entrance in order to try to slow down the police.

* * *

Chains split from the group not long after Wolf, and headed down a hall with a sign labeled 'Materials Research'. He didn't think that whatever device they were hunting for was likely to be that way, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be sure. Following the hall, he came to a sealed door, which Chains was able to quickly force open. After finally breaching the door, Chains entered what appeared to be a lab, with several frightened looking scientists cowering behind the various tables scattered around. Looking around, Chains noticed one of them with a phone to his ear who was looking right back at him. _Must've heard us coming,_ he figured. It was clear that the scientist knew he had been spotted as his face quickly turned to a look of pure terror. He dropped the phone, and began scrambling backwards, gibbering in terror. Chains cursed and began moving towards him, making sure to crush the phone underfoot on his way over, before stopping right before the man. He was sobbing at this point, pleading with Chains to spare him. Before he could make too much of a racket, Chains simply kicked him in the face, leaving him with a broken nose while knocking him out. With that taken care of, Chains spun about, and brought his weapon to bear.

"On the ground. Now." That was all he had to say, and the scientists complied, knowing full well what the unspoken 'or else' was. With the civilians taken care of, Chains quickly began scanning the lab he was in for any sort of device that matched the one he was looking for, before being interrupted by Bain.

"Heads up crew, police radio's lighting up. You've got 30 seconds before first responders arrive." That wasn't good. Chains looked around and saw several canisters filled with some sort of glowing material of different colors. Together, they almost formed an entire rainbow. Not wanting to come back empty handed, but also not finding anything better, Chains pulled out a bag which he filled with the multi-colored canisters. It was heavy, like a the bag was filled with sand, limiting Chains to a fast walk as he left the lab, stopping only to shoot one last glare at the man who had alerted the cops before heading back up front to fight off the incoming police.

* * *

Dallas and Houston moved towards the very rear of the building, still searching for the device that Vlad wanted. Houston was muttering something about kicking Vlad's ass when Dallas held out a hand to stop him, while gesturing towards a door helpfully labeled as 'Prototype Testing Chambers'.

"Y'think that's what we're looking for?" Dallas turned to his younger brother and partner-in-crime.

"I sure as hell hope so…" Houston muttered in reply. The two brothers-in-arms moved forward, scanning each hall, doorway, and corner for any straggling guards or civilians that they hadn't already caught, until finally coming across a locked, heavily reinforced door, helpfully marked as 'Prototype Storage'.

"Well, ain't that helpful," Quipped Dallas, already getting to work setting up a drill in order to breach the room. Meanwhile, Houston took a moment to check all his gear, but was quickly interrupted by a warning from Bain, who informed them of incoming police. Houston could parse the underlying meaning in it, though: ' _Hurry the fuck up and get whatever this piece of junk Vlad wants out of there'_ , and he could agree with the sentiment. He just hoped Chains and Wolf could keep the front area locked down enough to keep an escape path open for them.

Minutes later, the drill finished its job and helpfully emitted a small beep to inform the heisters. Using a little bit of finesse and a lot of struggling, they managed to pry open the door and enter a small room with wires hanging from the ceiling in several spots, most of them plugged into a device on a pedestal in the center of the room.

"Is this it?" Houston questioned, sounding distinctly unimpressed by the small, gray, cylindrical device in front of them. It appeared to be hooked to several machines on both sides of the room, which were giving all kinds of readouts for statistics Houston didn't understand or care about. It seemed to have a small keypad on it, marked with the numbers zero through nine, along with a larger red button, which Houston could figure the purpose of pretty easily. Right next to the pad was a screen of about the same dimensions, which was blank at the moment. The area that corresponded with that field appeared empty, and Houston was looking over the strange device even more before a shout from Dallas snapped his attention back to reality.

"Well? We got the prototype, let's go!" Houston quickly disconnected all the wires and devices as quickly and safely as he could. It wouldn't do to find out that the crew couldn't get paid because they had delivered damaged goods. Houston pulled out a dark blue duffel bag, carefully placing the device inside and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's get out of here. I still got a bad feeling…"

* * *

Back at the front of the building, things were not going well. Chains and Wolf had returned to the front of the building in order to fortify it for the coming assault, with Wolf setting out several mines that he carried for just such an occasion, and Chains simply dropping a brown bag filled with ammunition beside him for the rest of the crew to use. Both men had taken up a post behind a large desk in the lobby, it being the only real piece of cover in the entire room, and waited for for the first responders to arrive. Not moments later they did just that, and after a very short gunfight, four of D.C.'s finest lay dead or dying next to a pair of abandoned police cruisers, their sirens still wailing like Banshees. Minutes later, larger armored vans began pulling up, and disgorged their loads of elite SWAT officers. Chains noticed a few specialized enemies among them, primarily Tasers, Shields and the now ubiquitous Medics that had been deployed alongside the rank and file. Wolf was able to manage the more heavily armored enemies with a pair of auto turrets he had brought with him, spitting armor piercing shells at anyone who wasn't cut down by the combined firepower of the two outlaws. Finally, after several minutes of shooting, the squads of police pulled back to lick their wounds, having failed to seriously injure either man. Only a few moments later, the other two members of the crew joined their compatriots behind the desk, which by now had dozens of holes and pits taken out of it.

"You got the loot?" Questioned Chains, who was using the reprieve from the shooting to rearm and reload his weapon.

"Right here," Reassured Houston, who was preparing an ECM device as he scoped out the opposition. As he looked to the very rear of the force, his blood ran cold. He saw a group of black armored soldiers exiting the rear of the vehicle, their unique armor making it clear just who they were.

"Oh shit," Whispered Wolf, who had made the same realization, "ZEAL team…" That was bad news indeed. ZEAL had shown up on their last few heists, and they were terrifyingly effective. What was done was done, though, and the crew still had a prototype to steal. Both sides had come prepared for a fight, and a fight was what they were going to get. As the first ZEALs came to the head of the crowd, with officers of all sorts lined up at a makeshift barricade outside the lab, the four outlaws, brothers in arms until the end, prepared for a fight unlike any other. As the men made their final preparations, Bain spoke up over the radio.

"Shit, guys, they've got the entire area locked down. The escape van ain't getting in there, never mind getting back ou-" His voice was drowned out as an someone fired the first shot, signalling an end to the standoff, and the beginning of another wave of SWAT. "-et up to the roof, I should be able to get you guys out of there." Bain finished. The heisters had heard enough to know what to do, there was just one little problem. Or rather, one very large and heavily armed problem. The police were storming in from all sides, and the four men were very quickly becoming overwhelmed. Thinking quickly, Houston sprang the trap he had set minutes earlier, and hit a button on the side of the ECM he had placed. Immediately, he could hear a deep, pulsing warble as the device began emitting a feedback signal to all radios in range. Several of the officers were incapacitated almost immediately, clutching their ears in pain. The crew took advantage of the opening they had created, and began moving back into the building to find a way to the roof. They were pursued by only a few police officers, either too disciplined or too bull-headed to be affected by the feedback, who were all firing wildly at the retreating heisters. One lucky shooter managed to land a handful of shots on Chains, who simply shrugged them off. One shot managed to graze the bag he was carrying, however, ripping a hole large enough for one of the canisters to slip out, and roll along on the floor.

"Grenade!" An officer screamed, as the pursuing men struggled to slow down and turn around to get away from the supposedly explosive device, some of whom slipped rather comically trying to spin around so quickly. Chains turned to watch the spectacle, and smiled under his mask at the idea that formed in his mind.

"Surprise, motherfuckers," He muttered, tossing a frag grenade to land near the canister, which glowed a soft blue. The SWAT officers that had come to realize that the canister was not, in fact a grenade, scrambled for cover once again as the real thing rolled to rest right next to it.

Chains had already turned to catch up with the crew when an unfamiliar sound called his attention back to the pursuing officers. Instead of the usual dull thump and concussive wave that usually accompanied a detonating grenade, Chains heard a crack, like an over pressurized soda can bursting, followed by a crackling sound not unlike the one that ice makes when tossed into water. As he turned to investigate, Chains was greeted by the sight of an entire wall of ice covering the hallway, with several SWAT officers partially or completely frozen within.

"Oookay, I don't know how you did that, Chains, but damn if it didn't help," Whispered Bain, who was watching the entire situation unfold over the cameras.

"Jesus…" Chains breathed, before continuing on. He could ponder why and how that had happened later, when they were out of danger.

* * *

When Chains finally caught up with the rest of the crew, he was greeted by an unnerving sight. Wolf was laid out on the floor at the base of the stairs, with a very painful looking bullet wound on his side. Houston was frantically trying to stem the stream of blood as Dallas took cover at the top of the stairs based on what Chains could hear, taking potshots at the cops on the roof, trying to keep the rest of the team out of the line of fire. Despite his best efforts, though, he was having a difficult time taking so many police with just what he had, and in exasperation, began shouting.

"Dammit Wolf! Get off your ass, and get up here!" He commanded. Wolf, out of either fear or force of will, summoned the strength to get back on his feet, still bleeding from the wound. It didn't look that bad, in Chains' opinion. He had seen men survive worse in the military, and Dallas certainly had a way with words that let him make it _very_ clear that he was not a man to be fucked with.

With Wolf heading upstairs to help fight off the cops and the hallway leading back where they came from blocked off by that wall of ice, Chains and Houston took a moment to rest. They scanned the room, in case there might be any wandering eyes to watch them, before taking off their masks for a moment, sucking in the fresh air. Chains leaned against a wall while he caught his breath, while Houston simply crouched down in a sort of stretch. With their heads cleared, and the hallway mostly quiet, save for the occasional burst of gunfire from up above, the two criminals noticed a sound that seemed out of place.

 _Beep_

 _Beep_

 _Beep_

Both men looked at each other, wondering where that sound could be coming from. A quick search revealed that it was coming from the loot bag that Houston had tossed to the side after Wolf had been injured. The loot bag that held the device that was the whole reason the crew was here. The potentially _very fragile_ device. Both men scrambled over to the device and pulled it out of the bag it had been secured in, checking it over for any outside damage. Thankfully, the device seemed fully functional. Rather, the beeping the men had heard was coming from the screen on the side of the device, which was now displaying the phrase ' _Transporter activated, Input Coordinates'._ Evidently, Houston's rough handling of the device had accidentally activated it.

"Hmm… better not mess with that, guys," Offered Bain, who was currently watching the two men through a nearby security camera. "Who knows what, or where, it'll transport if it goes off. You probably just hit that big button on it when you put it down. Try hitting it again." Chains and Houston looked at each other, but, not seeing any more reasonable options, followed Bain's instructions. After a short rock-paper-scissors, during which Bain admonished them for being childish, Houston reached out a finger, and pressed the large red button. The screen cleared after a moment, and Houston let out the breath he had been holding, before lighting back up with new information.

 _'No coordinates input. Selecting last destination'._

Below that, the device was counting down from one minute.

"Shit, shit!" Was all Houston could yell, as the numbers continued to count down.

49…

48...

47…

"What's going on down there? Is the device alright?" Dallas yelled down from above, barely heard over the gunfire, even with the radio.

"It's… It's doin' something!" Was all Houston could say, too unsure of the situation to confidently say anything more.

* * *

Dallas was not one to panic, but shit was going downhill fast. After ZEAL had shown up, the crew had been forced to abandon the original plan, and now they were trying to clear a way for the helicopter to pick them up. Except there were even more cops on the roof. So now the team was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and it looked like they didn't have a way out this time. Of course, there was always more that could go wrong.

"It's… It's doin' something!" He heard Houston shout over the radio. Fucking brilliant.

"Wolf, c'mon, let's go see what's up with them," Dallas commanded Wolf, before adding on, "Don't forget to leave them a little present." The Swede nodded in affirmation, pulling out several tripmines that he carried, sticking them at strategic positions behind doorways and in the stairwell.

As the other half of the team reached the bottom of the stairs, they came across the panicked forms of Houston and Chains, trying to undo whatever had activated the device originally. As the former two approached the device, Dallas could make out a countdown on its screen, now showing the number 10.

* * *

9…

8…

7…

Chains never really bought into the whole "Honorable Sacrifice" thing when he was in the military. If you were stupid or unlucky enough to be near a live grenade, then you got what you deserved. Despite all that, when the device's countdown hit five, Chains started moving, almost on instinct, to dive on top of the device to protect the rest of the crew. His armor would take most of the force. Besides, everyone knew Chains was invincible.

3...

2…

Chains landed on top of the device, skidding a few feet over and startling the other men, who were investigating the possible bomb.

1…

There was a blinding flash, and an intense sensation of pressure and… Heat? Chains didn't know how to describe it. It was like when you held a piece of ice in your hand for so long that it started to feel like a burn. Chains simply tried to keep his eyes closed, and his body as stationary as possible.

Eventually, the light faded, and Chains was greeted with shouting in his ear.

"Guys? Chains! Dallas! Anyone?"

* * *

 **Well, here's my first try at serious writing with the intention of showing it to other people, I just hope that there's actually someone who even _wants_ to read a _Payday/RWBY_ crossover fanfic. I guess that just means I'm blazing exciting new trails, which is neat.**


	2. Chapter 2

Bain's pulse quickened. This wasn't how things were supposed to go at all.

"Guys? Guys! Where are you?" He shouted over the radio. ' _What the hell was that explosion?'_ Bain wondered to himself. At least, it looked like it exploded. It looked like some sort of bomb, but after that flash the device was still there, completely untouched. Was that what Vlad was after? Some sort of multiple use bomb? Bain was half amused at the idea that that sort of device even _could_ exist, and half terrified at the fact that Vlad would absolutely hire the crew to steal something like that. But Bain quickly got a hold of himself, and tried to get his facts in order: The crew accidentally activated the device, and then it… did something… Clearly it wasn't a bomb. There was no damage of any sort. No scorch marks on the walls, no smoke, and no evidence of a certain heister pasted over the floors, ceiling, and walls.

' _Now that I think about it,'_ Bain mused, ' _Didn't the device have something on the screen?'_ It was something to go on, at least. He cycled a couple minutes back in the security footage. There.

Onscreen, Chains and Houston were frantically trying to deactivate the device. Bain paused the footage, and zoomed in.

"Damn, these security cameras have real crappy resolution. It's like they're trying to make their jobs as hard as possible." Bain muttered. He couldn't help it, he was a techie. He'd never be this sloppy with his own security. Back to the matter at hand though, there was definitely something on the device's tiny screen. He squinted, and could just barely make out the letters.

"T… R… A… N… S… P… O…" He read out, slowing as he reached the end of the word. "Transporter… Oh shit." He breathed. That explained a lot. Bain took one last look around the scene, catching a glimpse of the battalion of cops that was storming the building. They'd probably get the device, but there wouldn't be a trace of the crew. Bain thanked god for small mercies. Nothing for the cops to trace the crew with meant that it would be easier to cover their tracks. But if the crew had been transported, and not blown to pieces, then covering their asses was the least of his worries. Bain just hoped that he would still be able to reach them with the radio, wherever they were. He keyed it again, hopefully broadcasting to the crew, wherever they were.

"Guys? Chains! Dallas! Anyone?"

* * *

Chains groaned as he picked himself off the ground. He felt like shit. At least that meant he wasn't dead. Of course he wasn't; nothing could kill Chains. Nothing that he had come across, at least. Not even that device that… he…

Chains swore. Just what the hell was that thing. Where was the rest of the crew. Chains jolted upright, and searched around for a weapon. Just a few feet away was his trusty KSP. A few feet beyond that was the rest of the crew, all knocked out. Chains quickly crawled over to the gun, and cradled it in his lap as he sat against a wall. Suddenly, Bain's voice shocked him out of his respite.

"C'mon, anyone! I know you guys can hear me!" It said. _Bain!_ Chains knew that raspy voice anywhere. He quickly keyed his own radio. Maybe Bain could shed some light on the situation.

"Bain?" Chains finally replied, "I hear ya, man. What the hell just happened?"

"Chains? Thank god! I thought you guys were dead for a second there!" Chains heard Bain breathe a sigh of relief over the radio. "Are you alright? Where are the other guys? Are they alright?" Chains couldn't help but chuckle a small bit. Bain liked to pretend he kept his relationship with the crew professional, but he could be a real mother hen when he was worried about them.

"I'm fine," Chains replied, "Rest of the crew's right here with me, but they're all knocked out. Looks like we're in…" Chains finally had a moment to investigate his surroundings. It was late evening, at the earliest. That didn't make any sense, it was midday when they arrived at the lab. But then again, nothing really made sense right now. Chains was clearly in some sort of alley. In one direction, there was sidewalk leading away to the unknown. In the other direction, a couple of dumpsters, and more unknown.

"Chains? You still there? You kinda drifted off." Chains snapped back to reality.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm in some sort of… alley, I think. Doesn't look like anywhere in DC, though." That was really odd. Chains remembered the screen on the device saying 'Transporter', but transport where, though?

"An alley," Bain murmured, "That doesn't really give me much to go on. I think we can at least agree that you're not back in the lab, though, yeah?"

Chains agreed. "The device said 'Transporter' or something on it, I think. Didn't say where it sent us, though."

Bain hummed. Then he finally sighed, "Well, the crew's still alive, at least. That's the important part."

"Aww, you do care about us." Chains turned to the familiar voice. Dallas had woken up and picked himself up off the ground, standing in a slouch as he dug through his pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

"Dallas? Good, you're awake too," Bain sighed with relief, "I don't really have any new information for you, besides you aren't in DC anymore." Dallas stood up a bit straighter at that, before muttering something that sounded along the lines of ' _of course we aren't'_ , and then went about collecting his weapons off the ground and bringing the rest of the crew back to the land of the living.

"Well," Bain finally spoke up, "Looks like the gang's all here." He chuckled a bit. "And no matter where we go, you better believe that we are still in business."

* * *

"So… Now what?" Houston spoke the words on everybody's mind. They certainly weren't in DC anymore and, based on the evidence, they might not even be on Earth anymore. Houston had gone around to scope out the surrounding city area, but none of the stores, hell, not even the street names had shown up anywhere on the web. Not a trace, no mention on some obscure page of some forum deep in the web. Essentially an entire town that effectively did not exist. The million dollar question was clear; If this wasn't Earth, then where was it? Suddenly, the men heard the scuffle of several people walking towards them. Although the men were still a bit woozy from their recent trip, courtesy of Strange Device Airlines, they still had the sense to ready their weapons at the potential incoming threat. As the unknown group got closer, the crew could make out bits of a story that one of the group members was telling.

"And so I said to the guy," The man began, "I said, 'Now that's a katan-aaahhh…." He trailed off, just now noticing the four well dressed and very well armed men pointing their weapons at his group. "Uhhh…." The man gulped out.

"Drop it." Houston was the first to react. The first thing he noticed that each of the men was carrying some sort of hybrid cleaver-sword, which probably meant that they had some sort of combat training. The second thing he noticed was that they also seemed to be wearing black suits, just like his own crew, but more obvious. _'Posers,'_ was his first thought. His second thought was that their suits seemed kind of like a uniform. Then he spoke up again, "I'm not gonna say it again. Drop. The. Weapons." The man at the front of the group, probably the leader, looked around at his three companions, each armed with a cleaver-sword. Then he looked back at the four men in front of him. With guns. But before he could speak, one of his friends pulled out a gun that he had kept concealed.

"Like hell we're gonna just let you tell us what to do!" The goon shouted. The response was immediate; the thug was hosed down by four streams of lead, quickly bypassing whatever sort of protection the poor man might have had and taking large chunks out of his still standing corpse. The other three men gaped at the pile of mincemeat that was once their partner, and turned to look back at the four men. Then the leader spoke up.

"Nope." He dropped his weapon, and it clattered to the ground. "I ain't gettin' paid enough for this shit." He raised his hands in surrender, and turned around, walking back the way he came. His other two 'friends' watched him go, then looked back at the crew, before following his lead, dropping their weapons and walking back the way they came.

"Well alright then," Muttered Dallas. The heisters lowered their weapons, and two of them moved to bag up the body and hide it in one of the nearby dumpsters. Criminals they might be, but leaving dead bodies laying around was just bad form. They were about to put their weapons away and return to brainstorming a plan of action when another voice spoke up behind them.

"Well that's just great," The new voice was bit higher than the other thugs, but still distinctly masculine, "I paid good money for those henchmen, and then a bunch of kooks with guns shoot one of them and chase the rest off." The crew spun around, guns at the ready to take on this new threat. "Well, I can't fault you guys for style I guess. Nice suits." As the man continued, each member of the crew was able to get a good look at him. He was a bit over six feet, and wore a white jacket with black pants and gloves. A black bowler hat covered his most distinctive feature, a shock of fiery red hair that showed clear signs of having been styled earlier. In one hand he carried a cane with a white handle and red trim. "I must ask though, what is with those masks? You all look like a bunch of demented clowns heading to the bank to get a loan." Dallas wasn't sure whether to be proud or annoyed at that last remark.

"Well, buddy," He began, "Some of us like being able to show their face in public." The man simply chuckled at the answer.

"While that is true, what's the point of being plastered all over every screen in town if you don't want to be famous? I quite like the attention, personally." The guy certainly dressed the part. Stylish coat, the fancy hat and cane, he was even wearing eyeliner. This guy clearly wanted to be on camera, and wanted to make sure that they only caught his good side in the process. "But I digress," He continued, "I paid to have four gentlemen meet with me here to provide some muscle while I robbed some poor shopkeeper blind. Instead I get four gun toting clowns and a bloodstain that I'm quite sure wasn't there yesterday." The man twirled his cane around his finger once, before pointing it at the crew, the cap on the end flipping up to form a reticule. "I propose a deal. You boys must be at least competent if you scared off Junior's goons. Why don't you _accompany_ me on this job, and we can forget this ever happened." The crew tensed at the subtle threat. Their radio crackled as Bain finished eavesdropping and cut in with his two cents.

"May as well," He offered, "Seeing as how you're pretty much out of a job otherwise. Everyone needs to start somewhere." Dallas felt uneasy about this stranger, offering them a job out of the blue, but Bain had a point. If they really were in another world like Bain thought, then all of their contacts, all the favors they had collected, all of it was worthless here. They were all the way back at the bottom again.

"Alright then. We'll do it." Dallas finally conceded, "But if we're going to work together, then what should I call you? I'd like to know the name of our new employer." The man lowered his cane, smiling all the while.

"You can call me Torchwick." He gave a ridiculous bow "And your names would be...?"

* * *

The gang of five walked slowly, yet deliberately, towards a small shop at the end of the street, with a sign that read ' _From Dust Till Dawn'_. The crew could appreciate the play on words, even if they didn't entirely understand what 'Dust' was. The job seemed simple enough; It was a one room shop with all the merchandise on display, There weren't even alarms on any of the display cases. The crew had robbed jewelry stores with better security than this place. It would be a piece of cake.

As the five man team walked in, Torchwick sidled up to the counter with an old man standing behind it.

"Do you know hard it is to find a Dust shop open this late?" He inquired. At this, Chains leveled his gun at the old man, who promptly held his hands up in surrender.

"P-please, just take my Lien and leave!" He begged. Houston moved to open the register, but was stopped by Torchwick.

"Shh-shh-shh-shh," Roman assured the man, "Calm down, we're not here for the Lien." He nodded at Dallas and Wolf, "Get the dust." The two heisters glanced at each other for a moment before shrugging, and moved to a cluster of tubes on the near wall. This was Torchwick's heist, it wasn't their place to judge what he was aiming for. Maybe Dust was like gold for these people. The two heisters used several cylindrical containers that Torchwick had provided to hold all of the crystalline 'Dust' from the tubes on the walls.

While the two filled each of the containers, packing them into a couple of bags for easy transportation, Dallas took note of Wolf's sudden quietness. Ever since they had come to the revelation that they might not be on Earth at all, he had become much quieter, and spoke in short sentences when he did at all. Dallas decided to confront him about it when this was all over. One insane, mute psychopath was more than enough for the crew as far as he was concerned. They didn't need two of them.

Chains was mesmerized by all the colors, wondering why they seemed so familiar. Then it hit him. Those canisters he had nabbed from the lab, they had been filled with the same stuff that they were stealing. Chains remembered the massive wall of ice that had formed when one of the canisters was ruptured, and made a mental note to watch his fire.

"Ahem," Chains was shocked out of his trance by Torchwick, who gestured to the display case. It was full of glowing crystals of various shapes, sizes, and colors, and Chains quickly moved around the other side of the counter, tying down the shopkeeper before opening the case and removing the crystals. He handed them to Torchwick, who carried a specially made case to safely hold the volatile materials.

Meanwhile, Houston moved towards the rear of the store, searching for anything that looked valuable enough to bother taking. His search was interrupted when the sound of music caught his attention. He could hear it coming from the next row over, and went to take care of the source. As he moved towards the music, he saw a young girl, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. She was wearing an odd outfit, a black blouse and skirt, with red trim, along with a large red cloak which she had fastened around her neck. She was also wearing a set of headphones with a rose design on each side, the source of the music he had heard earlier. It was clear that she was completely tuned out from the rest of the world, instead having buried her nose into some magazine. Houston sighed. He was feeling tired and more than a little frazzled at the recent sudden changes to his job. Low on patience, he simply whacked her on the back of her head, knocking off her headphones and eliciting a yelp of surprise from the girl.

"Get on the ground kid. I've had a bad fuckin' day."

* * *

Ruby Rose was enjoying the latest issue of Weapons Monthly when she felt a hard knock to the back of her head, knocking her headphones loose. She heard the tail end of someone else speaking, probably the jerk that bumped into her, and was about to lecture the man on proper manners before gasping at his choice of apparel. He wore a suit, which wasn't too odd in itself. The part that really threw her off was his mask. It resembled the face of a clown, with a flattened nose and an all white face save for the oversized eyelids, which were a vibrant fuchsia. The eyelids came down over the eyes a bit, which combined with a large smirk to create an expression that gave the impression that the wearer was calm and at ease. The gun he was holding to her head, however, made it clear he was anything but.

"Are you… robbing me?" She asked, innocently.

"Uh, yeah." Replied the masked man, dripping with sarcasm.

"Oooh…"

* * *

Chains was bagging up the last of the dust when he heard the sounds of a fight. Specifically, he heard a shrill 'Hyah' coming from the back, followed by the meaty thuds of someone getting punched, as well the grunts that could only be coming from a certain criminal. His assumptions were confirmed when Houston was sent flying towards the front of the store, landing just short of the displays that lined the window. Figuring that it was just some overeager civilian that had taken him by surprise, Chains sauntered to the front of the aisle that Houston, who was currently groaning in a heap on the ground, had been flung out of, and leveled his gun at… a little girl? The appearance of the mysterious assailant threw Chains off, and he took a moment to confirm that Houston had, in fact, been taken out by a fifteen-year-old girl. It was a moment too long. The girl, taking advantage of the confusion, took the shortest route out of danger. She took a step, then another step, then disappeared into a cloud of rose petals.

Chains realized his mistake almost as soon as he made it. Turning back to face what he rationalized as a very youthful special forces veteran, Chains could only glance a red blur before he felt a massive force slam into his chest, sending him flying face-first into the window and out into the street. Chains was disoriented from the impact, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, but could still make out girl's high-pitched voice talking, probably to him.

"-eesh,how much do you weigh? Oh… uh, are you alri-" Then he blacked out.

Dallas and Wolf had rushed over to Houston, who was fine save for some bruises, both to his body and his ego, and picked him up off the ground, before the three of them peered out the window alongside their employer. What they saw was a girl, no more than sixteen, standing over the passed out body of their team member, holding a bright red scythe that looked bigger than she was. The three men could only stand there and gawk at the absurd sight before being snapped back to reality.

"Okay... " Roman turned to the remaining three heisters, "Get her." Dallas turned to look at him

"Uh," Dallas sounded uncertain, "That's a kid,"

"Yes..?" Roman replied, irritated, "You don't have to kill her, just get her out of the way." Dallas just turned away and sighed. _Fair enough,_ he supposed.

"Let's go," Dallas muttered, "Spread out…" The three moved to surround the girl, each with their gun pointed directly at her. She returned the favor, bringing her own weapon to bear in a pose that looked like she planned to block any shots, with her back to Chains, who seemed to be stirring from unconsciousness. Dallas stole a quick glance at Wolf and Houston, who shot a look back themselves, indicating that they all had the same idea. They began shuffling backwards, never taking their eyes off the girl, but silently goading her into taking a few steps forward.

As Chains awoke, he sat up slowly, trying not to attract any attention in case the girl- the highly trained fighter, he corrected himself- or anyone else heard him. As he did, he took in his surroundings, he noticed an odd scene. The girl was standing in between him and the rest of the crew, as if protecting him from them, or- _Oh._ Chains quickly figured out the unspoken plan. He recalled a rule that he had been taught the hard way by a Cloaker back when the crew was just starting out. _Never turn your back on the body until you're sure they're dead._ Scanning the ground, Chains saw his weapon laying next to him within arm's reach. As he reached out and began to pull it towards himself, the bottom of the gun scraped on the ground, making a metallic scratching. The girl, who had been diligently ignoring him up to this point, turned to investigate, and was greeted with the image of Chains in a sitting position, with his gun leveled directly at her chest. They stared at each other for half a second, then Chains pulled the trigger, hosing her down with nearly the entire magazine from the gun, though due to her small size and agility only a fraction of the bullets actually impacted her. It was still enough to send her sprawling to the ground, if only for the moment. Dallas was the first to reach Chains, pulling him to his feet, and giving him a quick check for any major injuries.

"You've probably got a concussion, but you'll survive," Was his final diagnosis. He opened up the medical kit he always brought on heists, and took out a bottle of painkillers, handing a couple to Chains, which would hopefully keep him in the fight until they escaped. Chains took them gratefully, and swallowed the pills without a word.

Meanwhile, Houston and Wolf were investigating the body of the girl that Chains had filled with bullets without a second thought, assuming the worst. Their expectations were proven wrong when the girl groaned a bit and coughed. Taking it as proof enough that, somehow, she was not dead, the men took a closer look at the girl. She was certainly young, but strangely, neither man could find any injuries that would otherwise indicate that she had been hit with enough bullets to stop an elephant in its tracks. She barely had any injuries at all, really. Only a handful of small cuts and abrasions on her hands and head, which seemed to be healing right before their eyes.

"Well, if you boys are done playing doctor," Torchwick cut in, "We've got an escape to catch." The team of four each finished what they were doing, and after making sure they each had a bag full of loot, followed the redhead up the side of a nearby building on an emergency ladder, stopping to catch their breath at the top. "Our ride should be here any second now," assured Torchwick. None of the crew was willing to contradict him.

"I think that kid's getting back up…" Houston alerted the team. Dallas walked over to the edge of the building. At first, he was bemused by the girl's seemingly superhuman endurance, but now he was starting to feel concerned for his and his crew's safety. Was this what everyone here was like? Were the cops this strong too? There was a knot of uncertainty in Dallas' stomach, and there was only one way to fix it right now.

"Alright, Torchwick, what the fuck is up with that kid? Why is she on her way for round two when she should be bleeding out on the pavement?" He finally strained out, not wanting to piss off the only guy who might give him answers, but also not wanting to put his crew in any more risk going in blind.

"That was her Aura," Torchwick responded, barely giving it a second thought, "She's probably a Huntress-in-training. And a damn good one for her age at that." The knot of fear in Dallas' stomach began to subside, if only a little. He didn't know what Aura or a Huntress was, but his tone made it clear that she was the exception, rather than the rule when it came to physical ability. He could figure out the rest later. Dallas imagined a world where each cop had the sheer resilience of a Bulldozer, and shuddered at the thought.

Torchwick was a bit confused about the four man group's ignorance of common knowledge, but decided to leave it for the time being. These guys were experienced, if nothing else. He began formulating the roots of a plan, but was pulled back to reality by the shrill whine of a Bullhead's engines, indicating that their getaway had arrived. The aircraft pulled up right next to the roof and opened its doors, allowing all five men to hop in. As the craft was about to lift off, Roman caught a glimpse of the red hooded girl reaching the roof, just in time to watch them fly off.

* * *

Chains could barely focus as he shuffled over to a seat in the… whatever it was. It looked like a plane, but it acted like a helicopter. What were those called? Heliplane? It didn't matter. What was that new guy doing? Roman... Candle or something. He tossed something out the door, some sort of gem or crystal it looked like, before aiming with that cane-gun of his. That was really neat weapon. Maybe he ought to try his hand at building something like that someday. Houston would probably appreciate it. He liked concealed weapons. Chains felt the concussive wave of a large explosion, and smiled as he drifted back off, falling asleep to the lullaby of combat. Just like back in the army.

Dallas had been getting more and more concerned for the crew ever since they arrived here. Wolf was turning into a damn basket case, and now Chains was concussed. Dallas looked over to make sure their heavy hitter was alright. His head was lolling around and he seemed to be muttering something to himself, but at least he was alive. The sound of an explosion snapped Dallas back to reality, and he turned to see Torchwick cackling at a large cloud of smoke, his smile becoming a frown as the smoke began to clear. Dallas stood up and began walking to the open doorway to see what had the criminal so confused before the aircraft was rocked by explosions. Dallas was forced to hang on for his life as the craft nearly lost control, and he heard Torchwick yell something about a "Huntress". Dallas shuddered to think how powerful a fully trained Huntress must be, if that girl back there was just in training. It looked like the crew was going to have to fight tooth and nail for every speck of this "Dust" stuff. As their ship stabilized, Dallas noticed two new parties had entered the fray. Right next to him was a woman in a red dress with ornate, glowing designs on the arms and shoulders, resembling flames. It didn't look like the most functional piece of clothing he had ever seen, but based on what everyone else in this damn town seemed to be wearing, it looked pretty much par for the course. These people seemed to care more about looking nice than being protected anyway. Speaking of form over function…

" _Jesus,"_ Dallas thought, _"Do all of these Huntresses fight crime in fetish gear?"_ The other intruder that had decided to butt in on their heist was an older looking woman whose clothes seemed like something a schoolteacher might wear, if said teacher happened to moonlight as a "female escort". The strangest part, though, was the glowing purple aura that seemed to surround her.

" _So that's where the name comes from…"_ Realized Dallas. He realized that he was feeling even warmer than usual under his suit, and turned see the woman right next to him burst into flames. He fell backwards in surprise, landing flat on his ass, but the woman right next to him seemed unconcerned by her sudden spontaneous combustion. With just a flick of her hand, she sent a spray of burning liquid, like napalm, flying at the Huntress-slash-teacher-slash-prostitute, who deflected it with a swing of her… riding crop. Dallas wasn't even surprised anymore. Whatever. Think about it later, fighting now.

"Houston! Wolf! Get over here!" Dallas shouted over the roar of the engines. They were slowed to a shuffle to ensure they could keep their balance, but they soon made their own way over to the open door, each one grabbing a handhold. Dallas pointed out the woman, who was currently swinging her crop around like a wand, directing dozens of pieces of rubble into spear-like shape. They needed no further convincing this time. This was a fight between two groups of adults who knew what they were doing. Wolf pulled out the grenade launcher he had been carrying with him, and the three men opened fire on the two women below. The older one was forced to reform the debris into a shield to protect both herself and the other girl from the incoming fire, while the younger one transformed that scythe of hers into a more compact form and began using it to shoot back. Their flaming ally took the chance to prepare another attack, and Dallas noticed all sorts of fiery symbols forming in ribbons around her. She threw out both hands, and Dallas felt a shock wave fly off from her, knocking both the crew, and the two Huntresses on the roof off balance.

Finally, the getaway craft began to move, the engines rotating to propel the craft forward. As the doors closed, the three men collapsed into the seats that lined either side of the ship, and the mysterious flaming woman, now extinguished, walked to the cockpit to sit in the co-pilot's seat next to Torchwick. Over the whine of the engines, the three still conscious members of the Payday Crew could just barely make out a conversation between the two.

"Roman, these don't look like your usual choice of henchmen. Would you mind explaining why you decided to bring even more people into our little plan before I decide to... _dispose_ of them?" The woman spoke with a subdued tone, but she still radiated confidence, and her less than subtle threat sent chills down Dallas' spine despite the exhaustion. Torchwick just chuckled calmly, and gave a simple reply that Dallas could only just make out through the haze that threatened to whisk him into the world of the unconscious.

"I think I found the solution to our, ah, supply issues."

* * *

 **NGL, I'm not the happiest with this chapter. Too much describing events and people that you've already seen, y'know? Probably spent half of my editing time forcing myself to open the draft to fix it rather than just tossing it. Ah well, starting next chapter, we're moving back away from scenes in the show, so I should be able to bring it up to higher standards. Ideally, I'd like to maintain an approximately two week schedule while balancing school and work, but I guess only time will tell.**

 **Don't be afraid to leave a review, I want to get better however I can.**


	3. Chapter 3

Dallas awoke with a start as the craft touched down. He yawned, and rubbed his eyes under his mask. He still wasn't sure about taking it off yet. It was obvious that these newfound "partners" were just as much criminals as the the crew, but he knew from personal experience that the old saying _'honor among thieves'_ was just that. A saying. Honor among business partners, maybe, but certainly not among common criminals. The mob had taught him as much, years ago.

Dallas took a look around, his sight still a bit foggy from sleep. Chains was… still out cold. Probably for the best. That concussion would probably heal up itself in a couple of days, and Chains could afford to take a rest until then. Houston looked like he hadn't done anything except sit and think through the whole ride. He gave Dallas a silent nod.

 _"At least two of us still has his head on straight."_ Thought Dallas, _"Assuming that any of this is real, and I'm not just hallucinating or something."_ With everything that had happened in the last couple hours, Dallas was almost hoping that he had just gotten knocked a bit too hard by a stray bullet, and the crew was currently riding home in the van, a bit banged up but successful nonetheless. May as well just go along with things until he woke up, then.

Dallas brought his attention back to the present. Hopefully they wouldn't have to fight their way out of here, wherever 'Here' actually was. There were a lot of warehouses, so it must have been the industrial district, wherever they were. Still, it was comforting to have a backup plan just in case. Wolf, sitting on the other side of Chains, seemed to have fallen asleep himself. However, he managed to sleep through the entire docking procedure, and was still snoring away. Dallas decided that it was probably for the best that both Wolf and Chains stayed asleep in the vehicle until they figured out their current situation better. Chains wasn't really in any condition to be moving anyway, and Dallas still wasn't sure Wolf was in the correct state of mind for what would be coming next, whatever that happened to be.

The two people who might actually be willing to help the crew finally came out of the cockpit, having finished their conversation. The woman, the one who had burst into flames earlier, gave Dallas a glance before stepping out of the aircraft, giving him a single order.

"Follow me." Dallas raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, and turned to Torchwick, who was standing right next to her. He gave a shrug while lighting a cigar.

"I'd listen to her if I were you. She's not the type to accept 'disobedience' of any sort." Of course. She was _that_ sort of boss, Dallas figured. The kind that would have your balls for any sort of infraction, imagined or no.

' _Long as she pays up on time, then work is work I suppose,'_ He mused. Better a crazy employer than none at all. With a short stretch, Dallas stood up and, with Houston following behind him, stepped out of the craft and onto solid ground. Looking around, the first thing he made out were the shapes of several warehouses and other industrial buildings. Obviously they were at a docks of some sort. The second thing he noticed were the uniformed workers milling about, completing their various tasks. Specifically, he noticed their... _additions._ Each person, male and female alike was wearing the same grey uniform with a bony white mask. Each also had some sort of animal appendage. One had ears like a rabbit sticking out of his head. Another had a shaggy, wolf-like tail. Dallas simply stared for several moments, before realizing that the still unnamed woman had continued on regardless, and was leaving them behind. After giving Houston a quick jab to snap him out of his own trance, the two brothers hurried to catch up. In the meantime, Dallas grilled Houston for any useful information.

"Lady's name is Cinder, sounds like she pulls the strings around here, as far as anyone's concerned," Houston filled him in. "Right now, looks like she wants to just get rid of us, but Torchwick's trying to convince her to hire us, I guess." Well, wasn't that nice of him. As they caught up with their guides, they found the two deep in a heated discussion.

"-ve been telling you! If you want me to meet that sort of quota, then we need to bring in some more help, and these guys are at least competent enough to do it." Gee, thanks, Torchwick.

"The reason I hired _you,_ Roman, is because I was told you were the best." Cinder shot back, "If you're telling me that you aren't good enough to make the cut, then I'm sure these men you speak so highly of would be more than happy to take over for you."

"All I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe, it would be easier for you to find more people to steal the dust rather than forcing me to work twenty-four-seven to get as much as you need!" Torchwick took a moment to collect himself, "Listen, if you really need as much dust as you say you need, you're going to need more than just my expertise." Roman slouched over and sighed, defeated, "And these guys are probably your best bet." Cinder turned around with a small smirk on her face.

"My, my, Roman, that's quite the praise, coming from you." Roman glared at her. "Perhaps I will consider hiring them, then." Dallas figured the least he could do was comfort Torchwick with a pat on shoulder, the man having taken such a serious blow to his own pride for them. Not that there was anything wrong with calling in backup when you knew you were outnumbered. It seemed like these days the crew had to bring in somebody's fifth cousin or closest associate or whatever for every other heist. At least the safehouse felt a little less empty nowadays.

 _"Wait…"_

Huh, what would the rest of the crew do in their absence?

Probably keep robbing banks. Hoxton was still there, he'd keep everybody in line. Bain too.

Dallas wondered what they would be doing. Bain must have told them all about their... _situation_ by now.

"Excuse me." Dallas jumped back a bit. He had been staring off into space for so long that he hadn't noticed Cinder walking up to him, looking fairly annoyed at being ignored.

"Huh?" He replied. She scowled.

"As I stated, _Mister_ Dallas, I am currently considering hiring you and your... associates..." Her disdainful tone made it clear that their potential employment was more out of necessity than anything else. "I assume you are the leader of your group?" She questioned Dallas. He glanced at Houston before shrugging.

"If you're looking for our boss, he doesn't really like to show his face much." Anyone with a connection to Crime Net knew how seriously Bain took security. The crew only got a direct line to him out of necessity. Usually, you got three man chain of middlemen and dead drops if you wanted to ask him what toppings he wanted on his damn pizza. "I should be able to, ah, _ring him up_ if you want to talk, though." He quickly added, seeing her frown even more. She nodded, and her expression softened just a bit. Dallas sent out a quick pulse on the radio to get Bain's attention, only waiting a few seconds before he received a response.

"Dallas, you still doing alright?" Bain's voice always held an air of confidence on heists, even in the thick of a police assault, but now he simply sounded concerned. It was almost touching.

"Actually, Bain, I think we found a new contractor." Dallas replied. That was all he needed to say, and Bain was all business.

"Still staying busy, even in another world, eh?" Bain chuckled. "I guess that means they want a direct contact. I can make an exception, given the circumstances. Give 'em your radio, and we'll talk." Dallas obliged, removing his mask, then the radio headset he used to communicate with the crew, and handed it to Cinder. She put it on, and mimicked Dallas' movements, putting one hand to her ear and pressing a button.

"Mister… Bain?" She probed for any sort of response, and was greeted with the raspy laugh of a lifelong smoker.

"Just Bain." He paused for a moment. "So, I heard you wanted to hire my boys. Why don't we discuss terms, Miss…"

"Cinder." She replied. "Very well, Bain." She began walking off, pausing only to address Roman, "Find them somewhere to stay for the time being. Take them to one of your safehouses, make sure I can contact them," Her eyes narrowed, "And keep an eye on them." Roman nodded, and took a long drag from his cigar as she walked off, gesturing for Dallas and Houston to follow.

"Well, let's go get your friends, then," He sighed.

* * *

 _ **30 Minutes Earlier**_

"Hoxworth residence, Butler speaking," Aldstone, faithful butler to the Payday Crew, was going about his usual duties when the phone rang. Ordinarily, he would have allowed it to go to voicemail, but he recognized the number on the caller ID. This was a call from Bain's personal hotline, the one he only used for _'Very Important News'_. Regardless, It simply would not do to leave _him_ hanging.

"Aldstone, it's me." Bain seemed... off, considering his usually laid back and confident attitude outside of work. Then again, the van was gone. That meant that some of the crew was out "working". "Gather up the rest of the crew, I need to talk to them."

"Very well, Mister Bain, I shall assemble the troops, and call you back at the earliest possible convenience." Aldsworth responded, and promptly hung up, setting out to wrangle each member of the crew. He headed downstairs, finding himself at Wick's shooting range, the man himself taking shots at a hapless target. Aldstone took only a moment as he passed through to inform the hitman of Bain's call, receiving a grunt of confirmation. With that, he set off for the other end of the building, passing the crew's massive vault. Aldsworth was paid well enough to know not to ask questions. As the old butler reached the other end of the hallway, he cleared his throat with a cough.

"Gentlemen," He spoke loudly, "Mister Bain has requested all your presences upstairs, I believe he has something important to tell all of you." There was a general murmur of acknowledgement as the men began to file upstairs. Dragan, Sokol, Bodhi, and even Jacket. God lord, that man scared the hell out of Aldstone, with that gaze of his. Just so long as it wasn't directed at him.

Oh well. Wick had probably alerted the remaining crew, so Aldstone quickly made his way back to the main room of the house, where the twelve men and women composing the rest of the Payday Crew were waiting. Naturally, Hoxton was the first to speak.

"Well, we're all here. What the fuck was so important that Bain needed to call us all here?" Aldstone simply sighed, and replied in a tone usually reserved for petulant children.

"Well, If I knew, then I would have informed you all. As it is, I was simply asked to gather you all, and then give Mister Bain a call, Master Hoxworth." Hoxton opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, much to the amusement of the other criminals. Aldstone was one of very few people who could get away with putting him, or anyone else in the crew, in their place like that, and he made sure to use the power at every opportunity.

Aldstone moved to dial Bain's hotline, and soon the entire room was filled with the hum of an outgoing call. Bain picked up midway through the second ring, and almost immediately blurted out

"Guys, check the news! We've got a problem!"

* * *

"I... " Roman's voice dropped off as the three criminals found themselves back in the 'Hangar' where they had left the remaining half of the crew. One of the aircraft was currently surrounded by a very angry sounding crowd. Dallas noted that most of them seemed to have some sort of animalistic feature: Horns, ears, a couple had claws of some sort, one even seemed to have dry, scaly looking skin, like a snake. The real issue was the only two men in the crowd that _didn't_ have any sort of addition. The larger one seemed more confused than anything, and he could be heard muttering something about a 'God damn fetish convention'. Dallas did _not_ want to know. The other man, unfortunately, was very much awake and alert. And very, very panicked. Even from their position several feet away, the three crooks could hear him shouting clearly.

" _Kom tillbaka! Stick ifrån mig du demoner!_ " Yeah, Wolf was not in the best condition right now. Dallas, Houston, and Torchwick pushed their way through the crowd, making their way to the clearing in the center and revealing the cause of the commotion. One of the 'animal people' had been injured, and was starting to bleed out on the ground. Obviously, Wolf had woken up while the crew was out, and panicked. Regardless, it was obvious that things were close to going bad. Dallas pulled out his pistol and fired a pair of shots into the air, shocking the collected mob into quietness. He turned to his two companions.

"Houston, go see if you can calm Wolf down a bit. Torchwick, the crowd." The two men nodded in agreement, though not without some muttering from Torchwick, turning to talk to their panicked friend and unfriendly audience respectively. Dallas himself kneeled down next to the injured man… animal… hybrid thing, and opened his medical kit, pulling out all the necessary supplies for dressing a gunshot wound. God knows he had more than enough experience with treating those.

"Calm down! Let me see it!" Dallas snapped at the man, prying his hand away from the ragged wound. It didn't look _too_ bad… at least the damage was mostly just in his arm. It meant Dallas could do a bit more digging around to pull out all the little bits. May as well, it would probably be a good idea to keep on these guys' good side for the time being.

It took only a few minutes for Dallas to clean and dress the man's arm, having given him a quick dose of painkillers before pulling out all the little pellets he could. That shotgun could really do a number on someone if they weren't prepared. Houston, meanwhile, had managed to talk Wolf down from going on a shooting rampage to just keeping a hand on his gun at all times and a wary look at anyone outside the crew. It was a start, at least. Torchwick had, likewise, prevented the crowd from rushing the Bullhead, as it was apparently called, in revenge and told them that the crew were "Faunus brothers-in-arms". Whatever that meant.

" _If he just told them that we're all fetishists, whatever they're called, then we'll need to have a talk."_ Dallas thought. It seemed to be enough for the crowd, which began to disperse as a man with dog ears and a woman with antlers rushed over to support the injured man.

"Thanks, uh…" He began, trailing off as he realized that he had no idea who this masked man was.

"Dallas," The heister replied, before walking off to rejoin his partners-in-crime. As Wolf and Houston supported Chains, Dallas took the chance to ask a question that had been bugging him since it occurred to him.

"Hey, Torchwick," He began, "What the _fuck_ is a Faunus?"

* * *

"So, what you're saying is that Dallas and the guys, Dickhead included, accidentally got themselves fuckin' _teleported_ to god knows where, and we have no way to get them back." Hoxton had a drink in hand, struggling to comprehend just what Bain was telling him. It matched up with the news, unfortunately, which continued to run in the background. _'Four members of the infamous Payday Crew mysteriously disappear mid-heist,'_ The banner read. _'Authorities have no information regarding their intentions in attacking the lab.'_ Hoxton could only hope that this was some sick joke, but that wasn't Bain's style. He was more of a 'terrible puns' kind of guy. Back to the crew however…

"You're tellin' me… that they left me… AGAIN?!" Hoxton hurled his glass in a rage, before slumping into the nearest seat, cradling his head in his hands. "That's the second time now, that they've left me," He moaned. "And this time, I have to look after the fuckin' children, too!" There was a murmur among the older crew members, but it dropped off with a glare from Hoxton. The poor man looked like Bain had told him that the crew had been killed. Then again, he may as well have. They were about as far away as physically possible. "You're sure they're in another world, and not just, I dunno, Essex or something?" Hoxton asked despairingly.

"Not unless Essex has 'a giant lighthouse looking thing, like some kind of Eye of Sauron type shit', according to Houston," Bain replied, "None of the landmarks they pointed out showed up in any of my web searches, so I think it's safe to say they aren't on Earth. Or at least not anywhere that has an internet connection." Hoxton sighed, before standing back up and walking back upstairs.

"Bain, figure out how the fuck we're getting them back," Bain started to disagree, but Hoxton cut him off, "If they got there, then they can get back. Figure. It. Out." The safehouse was silent as he stormed off to his corner, save for the tinkling of glass as Aldstone cleaned the broken glass. Bain was the first to speak.

"Oookay then. I guess that's settled. You guys just… go back to whatever you were doing, _and for god's sake_ just stay out of Hox's way for now. I'd like to not lose any more crew members today." There was a pause, and the sound of Bain typing on a keyboard, "I'll see what my contacts can pull up on the device that did this, and call you back when I have something." With that, the line went dead, Bain having gone off to trawl his sources. Even though he didn't show it, he was almost as frantic about getting the guys back as Hoxton.

* * *

"...And that's the difference between Humans and Faunus." Torchwick finished succinctly. The crew sat in silence for a moment, processing the information. The faunus; a group of humanoid people that all had some sort of animal feature, plus better night vision. Chains muttered in relief about not working for "a bunch of fucking fetishists", and Wolf seemed to calm down a bit more at Torchwick's assurance that they would not, in fact, try to steal his soul. Then there was the "White Fang". A militant Faunus rights group that hated all humans, and apparently their new employer. According to Torchwick, Cinder was the one with all the money though, so she was the one calling most of the shots, despite being a human.

"And here we are!" Exclaimed Torchwick, "Welcome to Casa del Torchwick, for all your criminal needs within the beautiful kingdom of Vale." The outside of the building was rather unimpressive, from the look Dallas got of it. It looked like the kind of rundown old apartment building one would see in the slums. Barred windows, graffiti around the base; it reminded Dallas of the crew's own safehouse, actually, just with a few more levels above it. Dallas hummed for a moment, before finally speaking.

"Well, it's no Continental, but it'll do." Torchwick frowned at his comment.

"Well pardon me, madam, I didn't know you liked your safehouses with champagne and caviar." The rest of the crew chuckled, but their humor belied their true anxiety. Torchwick was certainly an experienced thief, but who knew what his standards for security were? Each heister was making his own investigation into the actual security of the building. As they followed Torchwick from the car, they noticed several well hidden security cameras, pointing them out to each other with a subtle whisper and a quick point of the finger. The door was, likewise, much more secure than it appeared. The physical lock itself was clearly heavy duty, with both a digital keypad and a physical key lock. As they entered the safehouse proper, Chains confirmed their suspicions that the door itself was heavily reinforced. Based on its weight, the wooden part was likely little more than a flimsy wooden panel over a solid steel core. Dallas had to concede that Torchwick knew his stuff when it came to security.

 _'Clover would probably be drooling all over this place,'_ He thought. The inside of the safehouse was surprisingly well furnished for just a safehouse. Wooden flooring, fine art, (probably stolen) and a state-of-the-art range of gadgets, including a massive flat screen TV. A TV which somebody had left on...

"Neo!" A multicolored mass jumped at Torchwick's voice, falling off the couch before standing up and revealing itself to be a very short girl. "C'mon Neo, have some decency, we've got guests." 'Neo' pointed a finger at the four unfamiliar men, raising an eyebrow.

"No, this is my cousin Rufus and his troupe of street performers." Torchwick replied sarcastically, "Yes, of course it's them. Neo, meet the Payday Crew." He turned to the crew, gesturing to the girl, "Boys, meet Neo, my partner in crime and the only person I trust to not call the cops on me the second I turn my back." He dodged an empty carton of ice cream that was flying at his face by the girl, who was blushing slightly. His expression turned comically serious as he did his best 'stern fatherly tone'. "Neo, what did I tell you about leaving garbage around the house. Why don't you say hello to the nice men, seeing as it looks like we'll be working with each other quite a bit from now on." She raised an eyebrow, and Torchwick slumped. "...It's not my choice. You know, _her_ orders." That was all the explanation she needed. With Cinder, it was better to just shut up and do what she says. Less chance of getting killed that way. With an exaggerated look of shocked realization and a roll of the eyes, Neo put on her best fake smile, and gave a silent wave. Roman noticed that the four hardened criminals all looked absolutely petrified, even with their masks on. He could see it in their movements; they were stiff and jerky, reacting to her own movements like prey trying to avoid a predator. There was something else, though… just the barest hint of recognition in the way they glanced at each other, confirming... something.

"So, uh, Neo," Dallas finally spoke, "I see you… like… ice cream…" The girl nodded, smiling.

"Neo here isn't much of a talker. Or at all, really," Torchwick informed. There it was. Another quick glance, before Houston spoke up.

"Jesus Christ, it's a mini-Jacket," He deadpanned. It was Neo and Torchwick's turn to share a glance.

"Wh-What's a... Jacket?" Torchwick spoke slowly, making sure that he had heard correctly. Another glance.

"He's... another crew member. Only talks through an old tape recorder, and completely fuckin' schizo. Neo here just... reminded us of him..." Dallas spoke very cautiously. Evidently, he was trying not to piss her off. Probably for the best. Roman had seen the remains of one White Fang thug who thought he could earn some cred by beating up Roman's number two.

Neo was no longer allowed in any White Fang establishments, except for business. Roman decided to defuse this standoff before it blew up in his face.

"Neo!" His suddenly cheery tone brought every other set of eyes on him, "Why don't you show our friends to the guest bedrooms." She made a face, counting the number of men in the room. Then, her eyes widened in realization. She held up three fingers. Torchwick grimaced.

"Yeeaahhh... We might need you to give up your room..." He let out a lame chuckle. Neo was not having it. She suddenly flipped over the couch, pulling out an umbrella to the background noise of Torchwick's growing "Neo, NO!", landing at the crew's feet. Dallas, and by extension the rest of the crew behind him, backed up a few steps, not noticing the sword that came from the umbrella until it was an inch from his face. They stood there for a moment, until Houston spoke up, ever the peacemaker.

"Uh, I can sleep on the couch... If you don't have enough beds..." With that, Neo was all smiles again, sheathing the sword back in the umbrella and walking down the hall, gesturing for the crew to follow. The three other men followed meekly, not wanting to incur the wrath of Mini-Jacket. Torchwick lit up another cigar, glad that the worst case scenario had been avoided. He did not want to be the one explaining to Cinder why one of the men she had specifically tasked him to keep alive had a large sword shoved through his face. Neo would have been on her own to face Cinder's wrath for that, partner or no.

"Sorry about that..." He offered.

"It's... fine. I'm used to dealing with overgrown children." Houston replied. The two shared a laugh as Houston sat down on the couch, laying back as far as he could. It really was a nice couch. Incredibly soft, reclining, and with a built in footrest; Houston could just lay back... and drift off...

* * *

 **Alright! Finally got chapter three finished. Sorry about the extra wait, but school really started kicking my ass with midterms and such. Now, though, I've got about three weeks of nothing but laying about and writing planned. And my job. And family coming down for the holidays. I'll try to get another chapter out quick to make it up to you guys.**

 **On a somewhat related note, while I haven't been writing as much these last couple weeks, I've still been working on writing in a way. I've been tossing around a handful of ideas for other fics I could starts once this one gets on the road a bit more. That way I can still have something to work on when that inevitable case of writer's block comes around, or if I just want to switch things up. To that end, I've been replaying Fallout 4 for... "research". I've also got a few other ideas, some crossovers, some not. They're all RWBY though, so if you came here for that, there's a lot more to stick around for. I'll see if I can write up something for them in the next day or two, and put it on my profile.**

 **Until next time, then.**


	4. Chapter 4

(New Memo)

From: Peter Romises

To: Solomon Garrett

Date: 2016-12-20 08:21

Subject: The Mysterious Disappearing Payday Crew

Commissioner Garrett,

I've finished compiling all the data we have regarding the sudden disappearance of the four members of the Payday Crew known as Dallas, Chains, Wolf, and Houston.

To be honest sir, all the evidence is pointing towards them quite literally vanishing into thin air. Ever since the incident at the lab a month ago, those four members of the crew have not been seen at any other crime perpetrated by the crew since that day. Also, when we questioned the lead scientist of the lab, he stated that "The things that we have been researching in this lab are _far_ above yours, or even Garrett's pay grade. If the Crew really did activate the prototype, however, then you won't have to worry about them ever again."

If I may sir, it looks to me like these guys are either dead, or deep underground. I think we should just count our lucky stars that these four are out of the picture, and focus on taking down the rest of the crew before sniffing them out from whatever hole in the dirt they've crawled into.

Lt. P. Romises,

Special Task Force: Payday

* * *

Dallas reclined on a chair with a drink in hand as he idly checked the news. As odd as Torchwick was, Dallas had to give him credit; he really knew how to live it up in a safehouse. The entire place was a fortress. There were reinforced doors and windows, soundproofing everywhere, and security cameras watching at two blocks out. It might be the safest building in the city, if the crew had anything to say about it.

Most of the crew was currently out at the moment. Chains and Wolf had set out together to find necessary supplies; primarily ammunition and tools. The men had been particularly fascinated by the 'mecha-shift' that a lot of the weapons around here employed. Together, they had been scheming up new ideas for weapons for the crew, some viable, but many more were plain ridiculous. Really, a bag that turned into a minigun? Why would they even need to conceal that much firepower anyway? Not like they could attach a silencer to it.

Houston was out on his own, casing potential targets for the crew. Cinder had made them hit several small shops over the month they had been working for her; she seemed to have warmed up to the crew, though only slightly. At the very least, she didn't act like the crew's very presence was a personal insult to her anymore. The shops were a piece of cake to plan, though. It took barely a day to draw up a plan for a shop, and most of them followed similar layouts. It was almost always just a case of subduing whoever was at the cash register, and the occasional civilian hanging around later than usual. The crew had robbed jewelry stores back in D.C. with better security. In the meantime, Dallas and Houston had been drawing up plans for more audacious heists. Local banks at first, to get a feel for the police presence. After that, however… It seemed that Torchwick's crime spree was the worst the city had seen in a very long time, save for the actions of one "White Fang". The city was easy pickings compared to back home, and the Payday Crew was poised to strike.

Speaking of Torchwick, the man wasn't much one for wasting time. Dallas barely saw him around the safehouse, but he usually acted as the middleman for Cinder and the Crew, passing along orders and such whenever he wasn't conducting his own robberies. Neo went with him sometimes, but she tended to spend more time hanging around the safehouse. Sometimes, when Dallas was planning heists, she would peer over his shoulder and offer her own thoughts, leaving notes scribbled in the margins when he wasn't looking. Despite her appearance and (he assumed) young age, she possessed a level of criminal savvy that Dallas himself had taken years to achieve.

 _She's probably just short,_ He thought to himself. _Everyone in this goddamn town looks about twenty years younger than they really are. Hell, Torchwick's in his 30's, but he looks like he could be Sydney's age._ Dallas couldn't help but fume a little at the thought. He already knew he was old, he didn't need to be reminded of it. He grabbed the remote, clicking to another news channel.

 _Great, we've made the news already._ The channel was currently airing a story about the sudden spike in crime in the city; specifically, the sudden appearance of a certain gang of four masked robbers who were currently on a crime spree across the Kingdom, knocking over every dust shop in their way. A reporter was reciting the little information they had on the crew to the public.

"Very little is know about these four masked criminals, known only as 'The Clowns'" The reporter droned, "Authorities believe that there is a connection between these men and Roman Torchwick," Torchwick's own mugshot appeared to replace the crew, "a nefarious criminal who continues to evade authorities. If you have information regarding any of these men, please contact the Vale Police Department. Back to you, Lisa." Dallas' attention drifted off as the story changed. Something about the White Fang, Dallas wasn't paying attention. The fact that they were on the news wasn't exactly a good thing; the more famous the crew got, the heavier the force the cops would pull out against them. Roman had told them about those "Huntsmen", and Dallas wasn't eager to have to fight one of them. They sounded like the unholy combination of the worst traits of a Bulldozer and a Cloaker, and if that fight with the red girl was anything to go by, they were probably worse. At least he knew they could be beaten at all.

There was a slam downstairs as someone closed the door. Dallas tensed momentarily, but then relaxed as he recognized the voices of Wolf and Chains in a heated debate over something or other.

"All I'm sayin' is wouldn't it be funny to see the cops when you pull out a bag, and they're like, 'Ha ha, what's he gonna do with that bag?' but then you open it up and they're like, 'Oh SHIT! He's got a minigun!'" Chains was talking rapid fire, apparently still pitching his idea for trying to incorporate that mecha-shift stuff into that minigun he had bought. He could get real excited when it came to new guns, Dallas never really understood why. Wolf looked like he was deep in thought as the two walked up the stairs.

"Well, yeah, but that's just ridiculous. It would be a better idea to use the mecha-shift to improve our other gear. We could use it to make the drill easier to set up. No more fiddling around with putting all the parts together, just set it and go." Chains nodded appreciatively at that. Dallas noted that Wolf had seen a positive improvement ever since he started tinkering again. He remembered back to when he had finally approached Wolf about his attitude a few weeks ago, right after they had first arrived at the safehouse.

* * *

Dallas shuffled down the hall, checking on the crew to make sure that "Neo" girl didn't try to carve any of them up in their sleep. Chains was back out like a light, probably for the best with his concussion. Houston was settling in as best he could on the couch.

"'Least it's better than the one back home, eh?" He had joked. He was just as unsure about these colorful new employers as Dallas, but at least they were giving them a place to stay for the time being. They could plan out their next moves tomorrow. Dallas moved on, giving Houston space to get back to sleep. He came to a stop outside the last door, Wolf's new room. Dallas simply knocked, in case the man was busy doing something. After a moment, however, he heard the light thumps of someone walking to the door and unlocking it. Wolf stuck his head out, keeping the rest of his body hidden behind the door.

"Yeah?" Dallas was taken aback for a moment. Wolf's eyes were bloodshot, and just a little red. Dallas just pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"Fuck, listen Wolf, we need to talk about earlier. This whole... _thing_." It was Wolf's turn to sigh. He knew what he meant. Ever since the crew had realized that they were in a new world, he had been nearly silent. Then there was the incident with the White Fang. While it could be written off as nerves by itself, Dallas knew Wolf well enough to recognize that there was something bigger here, and his appearance right now was the cherry on top.

"I… I guess." He mumbled. He opened the door to let Dallas in, turning around to face the window on the opposite wall. It gave a nice view of much of the rest of the city. Dallas took the moment of silence to walk inside, and tried his hand at comforting the Swede.

"Wolf," Dallas never was that great at comforting others. It wasn't a skill he usually had a need for. "Listen, man, what the fuck's going on with-"

"I always did this for them." Wolf cut him off. _Them?_ He pulled out a small picture. It showed the man himself, along with a woman and two young girls. _Ah. Them._ Wolf sniffled a little. "I just wanted to be able to give them everything they needed, wanted them to be proud of their papa." Dallas remembered the general details of Wolf's past that he had been given by Bain back when the crew first formed. Worked in a software company, turned to crime to provide for his family after it went bankrupt. Dallas wracked his thoughts for something to say. He had Houston, but he could look after himself; that was a big difference to a whole family to look after.

"Hey, we're still kicking," He finally said. "and I'm sure Bain's working on a way to get us home right now." Wolf turned around. Dallas didn't have anything to back that claim up, but he had a hunch that Bain wasn't just going to let his investments run off like that. It seemed to work enough for Wolf, at least.

"Yeah… Yeah, you've got a point." Wolf put the picture back in his jacket. When he looked up to face Dallas again, his face had a fierce expression. Dallas' lip quirked up a bit.

"Don't worry, man. We'll get through this."

* * *

"Hey! Earth to Dallas!" The sudden outburst from Chains snapped Dallas back to the present. He really needed to stop drifting off like that. People might start thinking he was even older than he was.

"Hm? Oh, uh, yeah? What's up?" He replied quickly. Chains gave him an inquiring look.

"...Right. Wolf was just saying how he's got almost everything we need for the thermal drill. It'll take a few days to build though."

"Right, right. You guys do your thing." Dallas waved him off. With a shrug, Chains walked off with his bags. They'd both be busy for the next couple of days with building the drill, which was good for keeping them from going stir-crazy. The crew hadn't had much to do over the past month outside of "work"; people might start asking questions if a group of four men suddenly showed up out of the blue, especially with the kind of things that they typically needed to purchase. On one hand, buying military grade ammunition was far easier now that it was sold at pretty much any weapons store, compared to the black market deals that the crew was used to. On the other hand, buying military grade ammunition was suspicious in and of itself. Dallas supposed that they could pass as huntsmen, if the need ever came up, but decided that he would rather not have to find out for sure. That kind of attention could bring its own set of problems.

 _May as well see how Houston's doing_ Dallas thought. He pulled out his phone; Torchwick had called it a "Scroll", but it was all the same as far as he was concerned. It took only a moment to pull up Houston's "name", and dial his number. After a couple of rings, Houston answered with a simple "Hello?"

"Hey, little bro, I was just checking in on you!" Dallas said, with a little more exuberance than necessary, "How's the, uh, _job hunting_ going?" The crew had to be careful to use code when they talked over the phone back at home, and Dallas wasn't taking any chances that the government here didn't have some sort of monitoring on their communications as well.

"It's going well," Was Houston's reply, "I'm at the bank right now."

"Really?" Houston worked quick. Casing the bank was just a side objective for Houston today. It seemed that everything was pointing towards the heist happening ahead of schedule. "So how's it look? What're our chances of _getting a loan_?" Man, some of these code terms could be real cheesy, like something Wolf might pull out of his movies.

"Looks good. This place seems kind of sleepy, so I think if we come in a little before closing, we should be able to avoid any big crowds." Less civvies? That could be good and bad. More hostages made it easier to keep the cops away, but it also made it harder to keep things quiet if they decided to go that route.

"Think we should keep this under wraps?"

"We could try, but we should definitely have the guys ready to perform damage control either way."

"Alright then. See ya' later, bro." Dallas ended the call. So he didn't think they could keep it quiet. It might be better to just go in loud, then. Then again, there was _her..._ She definitely _could_ do "quiet", though Dallas wasn't sure if she _would_. Dallas wasn't sure if Torchwick would approve either; those two were like family.

 _Eh, he's a criminal too. I'm sure he'd want to join in himself if I didn't need him for the getaway._ Torchwick was the only one among the group who knew how to fly one of those Bullheads, so he tended to get relegated to the role of getaway driver when they needed a pilot. They didn't really consider any of the White Fang to be a good enough to trust with their lives. Cinder seemed to consider it a sort of punishment for Torchwick for needing assistance in the first place, forcing him to go along to babysit the new guys. Still, even if Neo wasn't going to join the crew on the heist, Dallas still needed to let Roman know when they would need a pickup. He dialed up Roman's phone. It rang for a couple of moments before Dallas was greeted by a voice that was unmistakably Torchwick's.

"Ah, Dallas! What can I do for you?" If he wasn't going to bother with code talk, then Dallas wouldn't either. No point in getting teased about it.

"Torchwick," May as well get down to it, "How'd you like to help with a little… side job of mine?"

There was a pause.

"I'm listening."

* * *

Aldstone had gathered the entire crew together at Bain's request once again. Last time, it had been to inform the crew of the disappearance of Dallas and friends, and this time, if the shouts coming from Hoxton's corner over the past few days were any indication, the errant heisters would be the subject of this meeting as well.

"Alright, ya wankers, listen up," Hoxton's voice broke up the various smaller conversations between the heisters. "Here's what Bain an' I've found." He gestured to a nearby board with a web of photos and information tacked on. "So, this here's the device the boys were tryin' to steal for Vlad." He pointed to a grainy surveillance photo from the day of the heist. "Accordin' to Bain, this thing is some sort of transportation device. A teleporter." Most of the crew stayed silent. What else could they do? This wasn't something that you encountered every day. Hoxton continued on. "Anyway, we know what it does, thanks to the boys bein' oh so helpful and _testing it out_. Bain's tracked it down, and obviously if we want the guys back, we'll have to grab it out of whatever police lockup it's been dumped in." That made sense. Not like anyone here was going to figure out how to build one themselves. "However, that's not the whole problem." Hoxton pointed to another image, a man this time. "This wanker right here is a one _Doctor Klein_. Apparently, _he_ is the one who designed the device, and seein' as how none of us knows how the hell it works, we'll need him as well if we want the guys back safe." Hoxton took a moment to look around at the rest of the crew. Most of them were deep in thought. It wasn't a matter of conviction that was holding any of them back; being a part of the Payday Crew meant that you had to be ready to risk your life to help another member. No, the problem that everyone had was the question of 'how was this even possible'? Being sent to another world? Even Hoxton had to admit, this was sounding more like a sci-fi B-movie every minute. Eventually, Wick broke the silence, asking the question on everybody's mind.

"So then, where do we start?"

"I'm glad you asked," Bain's voice suddenly filled the room, startling several of the crew. Bain chuckled at their reaction. "Alright, so, I've got a location for the device, and not much else at the moment. Still pulling up blueprints for the building, but here's what I know: Firstly, the device is being transported by aircraft to a new research facility in the midwest, way out in the middle of nowhere." There was a sound of tapping over the phone, followed by a hum of irritation. "...Unfortunately, we won't be able to nab it from there."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" Hoxton squawked in indignation.

"What I mean is that this place is as secure as it can possibly get. It's too big for a four man group to clear, and a bigger team brings its own problems. We're going to have to nab this thing in transit." There was a murmur among the group, discussing each possible approach. A plane heist was certainly doable, but it had a lot of unknowns, and the crew could potentially get fenced in by the close confines of the aircraft. Combine that with the far more technically demanding nature of infiltrating a secure aircraft, and it was clear that no matter what the crew did, this job was going to be difficult.

"Oh wow, isn't this a coincidence…" Bain suddenly laughed over the phone, "Guess who's been contracted to provide transport and extra security for the device." Hoxton was confused for a moment before he realized himself.

"Murkywater…" Of course. The Feds always kept them on speed dial for when they needed a little extra muscle.

"Yup! What do you say, Hox? Should we give our old pal Locke a call? I'm sure he can work something out for us." There was no need to hide the growing smile of relief on his face. This plan was coming together quite well, all things considered.

"Right, Bain, you do that. We'll pay him later, if we have to. I'll pay for it myself. Just get us on that plane." Yes, things were definitely looking up now. Hoxton hung up the phone and walked over to the bar. It took him only a moment to grab a glass and a bottle, pouring himself a drink and immediately taking a long sip. He muttered quietly to himself, too low to be heard by anyone else, "Hold on guys, I'm coming for you."

* * *

"A bank!?" Roman had to take a minute compose himself. He had an image to maintain in front of these animals, and shocked outbursts had no place in it.

"Yes. It's a small one, but since this will be our first big score since arriving, I'd rather keep the stakes low." Dallas kept his voice even. Wasn't this guy supposed to be a big time criminal? This was a small time branch bank, Roman must have done something like this before.

"You must be crazy. The cops'll swarm you before you take two steps out of the bank."

"We're prepared." Roman had seen the gear they had arrived in. Suits notwithstanding, the crew was armed for a major conflict; Roman had to recognize that.

"Are you?"

"Yes," Dallas was getting annoyed by this point. Was it really that hard to believe that they, bank robbers, were planning to rob a bank? "Plan A, we get in and out without the cops knowing until we're long gone, but we've got a Plan B prepared if they do." There was a moment of silence on Torchwick's end, indicating his lack of agreement. "Listen, you can check out the plans when you get back to the safehouse," Dallas added, "We're still getting things ready, but we should be set to go in a couple days. All we need from you is a getaway." Roman let out a long sigh.

"Fine. I'll check your plans myself when I get back. If, IF I like what I see, I'll pitch in." Dallas allowed himself a slight smirk.

"That's all I need."

Roman leaned back in his chair, grateful that he had found a seat before Dallas dropped that bombshell. He mustered up a fake smile and the cheeriest voice he could.

"So! Is that all, or did you have something else for your dear pal Roman Torchwick?"

"Well, actually,"

 _Damn it, you just had to ask._

"I've been thinking."

"You have, have you?" If this guy was so determined to give Roman an ulcer, then he would get the _Signature_ _Roman Torchwick Snark, tee-em,_ in retaliation.

"Yes…" Ah the sound of annoyed coworkers, what could compare? "Anyway, I've been thinking. Nowadays, whenever the crew gets a new contractor, we usually tend to take on a new crew member, and seeing as how you'll be busy with organizing our getaway,"

 _Wait a second…_

"I was thinking that Neo might like to join us."

 _Of course. You just had to open your mouth and ask didn't you?_

"What!? Why?"

"She's obviously experienced, and she certainly knows how to keep things _silent._ " Dallas stifled a slight chuckle at his own joke. Torchwick was clearly fuming on the other end. There was a pregnant silence. Then a sigh.

"Alright, fine, I can understand why you want her, but why _should_ she?" This deal was not looking very good in Roman's eyes.

"Well, I shouldn't need to tell you this, but the getaway driver doesn't usually get as big a cut as the guys who did the heavy lifting." Right. Obviously Roman didn't stand to earn much from a successful heist. If Neo joined them, however…

"Fine, alright, I'll think about it. You had better have a good plan for this or you're on your own, and not even Cinder'll convince me otherwise."

"That's fair. I'll see you tonight, then." The line went dead, and Roman was finally able to relax. He let out a long sigh.

"My, Roman, you seem stressed."

 _Shit, not her. I can take anyone but her right now._

"Why don't you tell me about it." Cinder's tone made it clear that she would not accept "no" for an answer. After a moment, Roman turned to face the witch herself, leaning on the doorway. He had a slight grin on his face.

"Well, if you must know, your new hires seem to be looking to greener pastures already." That wiped the smirk off of her face, which made it all almost worth it to Roman..

"And just what does that mean?"

"They're planning to rob a damn bank!" Roman threw out his hands. "They've already got it set up, too, if Dallas is telling the truth!" Cinder was silent, evidently deep in thought.

"I'll allow them to attempt it. You will help however they see fit," Roman started to protest, "But if they fail, then I will have them eliminated personally." With that, she left. Roman slumped over, head in his hands.

"I'm surrounded by maniacs." Was all he could mutter. As much as Roman enjoyed the spotlight, he also enjoyed not being tracked across the planet and thrown in prison by a team of huntsmen. This heist was going to put Dallas and his friends on the front of every newspaper, magazine, and newsreel across the kingdom for a long time. What was worse was that Dallas seemed to know that, too. Roman could hear it in his voice. There was real confidence in it. He was bringing a kind of mayhem that the kingdom, hell, the world had never experienced on this level, and he knew it too.

Roman could only consider what kind of chaos they were bringing. This bank was small time, but the implications were huge. If they could pull off this heist then they would certainly aim higher. The only question was how big was too big? Roman was well aware he was small time compared to any major syndicate. It kept the huntsmen off his trail, and he was perfectly happy to keep it that way. This bank wasn't small time.

It was the point of no return.

* * *

"Ah, Bain, my friend! To what do I owe the honor of being contacted by you, rather than the other way around?" Locke always was a jovial man. Even in the heat of battle, his voice never wavered from a tone that seemed to imply that he had a massive grin at all times. It was enough to throw a lesser man off his game, but not Bain.

"Locke, listen, you remember that button you mentioned when we first met? The one that could take down all of crimenet?" Bain figured he might as well get a few a kicks before cutting to the chase.

"Ah yes. I have it right here, actually. Don't tell me you were hoping to buy it off of me or something. I've still got a couple ideas lined up for your boys."

"Actually, it's the opposite," _Or close enough to it,_ "If you don't want that button of yours to become useless, then you'd better listen to what I've got to say." Bain took no small satisfaction in the sputtering and coughing coming from the other end of the line.

"Bain, my friend, I'd suggest you pick your next words carefully. That sounded suspiciously like a threat." Locke's voice sounded gaunt. Whether he was scared of actually pressing "the button" or just losing power over the crew, it didn't matter. This proposal was mutually beneficial.

"Well, _my friend_ , I'm sure you saw the news a couple weeks ago," Bain mimicked Locke's unique accent.

"Ah yes, the one where they disappeared in the middle of a heist… Wait, you can't really be saying…?"

"Yup. Dallas, Chains, Houston, and Wolf are missing, and I need your help to get them back." Locke was silent for a moment, considering the implications.

"Right, well then, where do I come into this?"

"The device that did this, which will also _undo_ this, is being transported by the government out to a high security facility in the middle of nowhere." Bain paused for emphasis, "And Murkywater's been contracted to do it." Locke could figure out the rest. He wasn't a complete idiot.

"I see." Unusually quiet for the South African. At least he was taking this seriously. "And you need _me_ to get you on the same plane."

"Bingo." There was another silence as Locke weighed his options. If Murkywater found him out, he'd never be heard from again. Then again, that risk had existed from the moment Locke contacted Bain, rather than releasing all his information like his superiors wanted.

"Very well. I'll see about getting a few of your crew onboard. You can hide the theft of your device under the guise of stealing a few other things for me, eh?"

"That works perfectly. I'll be in touch, Locke."

"Of course. Don't be a stranger, my friend."

* * *

 **And there we go! Chapter Four is up, and this will be the last exposition chapter for a while. The two coinciding story lines are firmly on track, and we got plenty of action coming up next chapter. Bank robberies await! Then Plane robberies after that!**

 **That said, I'm going to try to get back into that once every two weeks schedule I mentioned a couple chapters ago, what with school starting back up. A couple good days of writing should be enough to finish a chapter, followed by editing, which should leave time for other stuff as well.**

 **Finally, I'd just like to say thanks to you guys. I haven't really said much, but it means a lot to see those favorites, follows, and positive reviews.**

 **Until next time**


	5. Chapter 5

"So, here's the plan." Six people gathered around the table holding the blueprints for a local bank. Three of them, veteran heisters, had completed this process so many times before, but still vigilantly memorized the details and layout of the bank. The fourth, Dallas, was explaining the plan to the last two. Roman was keeping his face impassive,while Neo looked over the blueprints with mild curiosity, casually eating a bowl of ice cream. Dallas had been incredulous back when they had first arrived after realizing the full extent of her… "addiction"; the freezer was more Neo's personal ice cream storage than anything else. Nowadays, it was strange to see her around the safehouse _without_ some sort of frozen treat.

"Houston, Neo, and I will enter the bank while Wolf and Chains wait in the van. We'll neutralize the security cameras here," Dallas pointed to a small closet near the back of the bank which Houston had informed them was the control room for the security cameras. "And make sure that the cops don't get any of us on camera. Then, we take care of any guards and civilians in the back, here." He circled a large room which composed the majority of the bank, aside from the lobby itself. "Meanwhile, Wolf and Chains will enter the front and pacify anyone in the lobby, as well as the tellers. All goes to plan, we should be in and out in twenty minutes."

Roman had to admit, these guys had done their homework well. The bank was well mapped out, with cameras, doors, and even patrol routes for the guards noted throughout the single story building. There was just one problem, though.

"So, I know how you're going to take care of the staff, but what's your plan to get into the vault itself?" Roman inquired. Dallas paused for a moment, thinking, before turning to look at the other heisters.

"Wolf, how's the drill coming along?" The gang's technician looked up from the blueprint, twisting his face in calculation.

"Uh, nearly done. Should be ready in a day or two." Dallas turned back to Torchwick, tilting his head towards Wolf, as if that was all there was to it. Outwardly, he maintained an impassive expression, but internally, Roman was incredulous.

 _A drill? What kind of drill do they have that can penetrate a half foot of dust reinforced steel?_

These guys really were absolutely crazy.

 _I suppose they would know what their capable of, given that this is apparently an everyday thing for them._

Besides Dallas, most of the crew seemed almost bored, in a way. Roman figured that he was going to have to give these guys the benefit of the doubt here. This was uncharted territory for him, so he was just trying to make sure that he didn't end up in jail. Roman sighed. On one hand, Dallas' offer to bring them into the crew was their chance to get rich beyond their wildest dreams. If these guys were exaggerating even a little, then the consequences would be dire.

"Alright then, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on that end," Dallas frowned, "So, assuming you do get in the vault and get whatever's in there, how are you getting it back out?"

"If we can do it quietly, then we'll just load up the van we arrived in and leave." Dallas pointed to the roof of the building on the blueprints. "If we do get spotted, then we'll move the bags to the roof, where you can pick us all up in a Bullhead which will be ready and waiting nearby."

Roman whistled. These guys knew their stuff. The entire heist was planned out and, except for maybe the drill, it sounded plausible enough. This could actually work; there was just one question left to answer.

"Well Neo," Roman turned to look at his partner-slash-apprentice, "Think you can handle this?"

The multicolored girl considered the plans, ice cream in hand, before turning to Roman with a smile and giving him a thumbs-up. Roman gave a small sigh. "Well then, I guess it's settled. I'll see what I can do about getting you guys a driver. When should he be ready?" Dallas turned to Wolf. He held up four fingers.

"Four days from now." Dallas turned to Neo, who was still enjoying her ice cream. "And you. Make sure you've got all your gear ready." She raised an eyebrow. "Get yourself a gun and a mask. If you're going to be a part of the crew, then you'll need to stick to the dress code." Neo's face made it clear what her thoughts on _that_ were. Even so, she eventually shrugged in acceptance. Dallas turned to address the rest of the 'original crew'.

"Alright guys, this should be a piece of cake for us. Wolf, you keep working on that drill, make sure it's ready for the heist. Chains, make sure everyone's guns are maintained; Houston's got the meds and spare ammo." The men nodded, and the group broke up, each member off to make their own preparations. As Dallas returned to poring over the plans, a slight smirk came to his face, and there was only one thought in his mind.

 _The Payday Crew is back._

* * *

The crew of five sat crammed in the back of the van. Roman had arranged for a White Fang grunt to drive the crew to their destination, and was currently prepping the Bullhead in case they had to go to Plan B.

"We're five minutes out." The driver informed the crew. They began checking their weapons and conducting final preparations. Dallas and Houston both screwed silencers to their weapons, while Chains and Wolf checked theirs for any damage, ensuring that their spare ammunition was comfortably situated and easy to reach. Neo simply fiddled nervously with her own weapons.

Naturally, she had her parasol with her, which was all _she_ needed, but Dallas had insisted that she bring a gun of some sort, so she had snagged a spare pistol from the White Fang armory. It was way bulkier than anything she would typically use, and she didn't have any plans to do so. "Sword and shield" might be a little old-fashioned to some, but she liked the classics. Neo held up the mask she had hurriedly made the other day, staring it in the "eyes". Originally, it had been a facsimile of a Grimm mask, just like the one that all grunts of the White Fang wore, but at the suggestion of the crew, she had personalized it, quickly spray painting it the three colors of her namesake. A strip of pink ran down the right side with brown down the middle. The left third of the mask was left plain white. It was messy, and anyone who took a close look could tell that it had been hastily done with spray paint, but the crew seemed to approve, so it was good enough for her. The hood that came with it would be enough that she didn't have to worry about hiding her distinctively colored hair, but she decided to color it brown anyway for the time being. She slipped the mask and gun into a pouch on her back, which would keep them concealed until she needed them. Dallas and Houston were able conceal their weapons, masks, and in Dallas' case, armor, in a pair of bag.

As the unmarked van pulled up out in front of the bank's main entrance, Houston, Dallas, and Neo hopped out and began walking through the bank, making an indirect route to the rear. As they passed into the undecorated concrete of the rear entrance, Houston pointed out the door that lead to the security room. Within moments, the two heisters had their bags out and unpacked, masks on, and weapons loaded. While Neo donned her own mask, Houston set to work picking the lock on the door while Dallas kept watch for any security guards. Seconds later, the door was open, punctuated by a surprised "Hey, what're you-" followed by a muffled burst of gunfire and a short groan. Poor fool didn't even have aura. Houston quickly hid the body while Dallas got to work clearing the camera footage. Within moments, any evidence that could connect the masks to the men was erased. As the three heisters left the back area, they quickly and quietly dealt with the civilians in the rear, making sure to prevent any of them from alerting the others. As they crept up on the main lobby, Dallas notified Wolf and Chains, who jumped out of the van, and made their way to the entrance. They would scare the civilians into submission, while the other three would make sure that no one tried anything funny. On Dallas' command, Wolf and Chains walked inside, and made their presence known.

"Everybody get down!" Wolf shouted as he leveled his gun. Chains preferred to let his gun do the talking. Most of the civilians quickly dropped to the ground, not wanting to anger the armed criminals. One of the tellers, however, lunged for the panic button underneath the counter. Before he could, though, his hand suddenly disappeared, replaced by a flash of steel and a spray of blood. With the sound of shattering glass, Neo appeared behind the counters, sword at the ready to do worse to the other teller. In seconds, the only sounds in the bank were the sobs of the newly left-handed teller and the occasional cry from a terrified civilian. As Dallas walked to the front of the bank with Houston, he pulled out a handful of cable ties and passed them to Neo.

"Take their phones too. We don't want the cops interrupting us if we can avoid it." Neo nodded, and began tying up hostages, following Houston's lead. Wolf had already headed to the back of the bank, drill in tow, and set to work on opening the vault while Chains took up position in the lobby, keeping an eye on the civilians. With the bank staff and civilians taken care of, Dallas felt comfortable enough to slip away to the back of the bank to get in contact with Torchwick; It looked like they wouldn't be needing an aerial extraction after all.

"Torchwick," Dallas kept his speech terse. They were on the job right now.

"I'm here, you need me to bring the Bullhead around?" Roman kept his tone even, but Dallas could hear just a hint of something: It was in his voice, the way he responded just a little faster than he should have. He was nervous. Dallas tucked that little tidbit of intel away for later.

"Nah, I think we've got this under cont-" Dallas was cut off by a several second burst of gunfire. "On second thought, why don't you keep the engines warmed up. I think we might need that Bullhead after all."

* * *

Chains had a tendency to zone out on the more boring heists like this. It wasn't like he really needed to do anything at this point, besides stand around and look scary. For the most part, he could get by with just standing around next to the civilians, and occasionally spouting something along the lines of "stay down". Some of his buddies from the military would probably be having an aneurysm at the sight, but it wasn't like he was expecting any trained soldiers to drop in. Not yet at least. He could take care of the occasional civilian that happened to drop in on his own.

"Now, what's going on here?"

Speak of the devil. Chains was slightly surprised at this new girl's reaction. Normally, civilians that came across the crew while they were on a job would immediately scream and either run away, or try and call the police.

This girl, however, was smiling. Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, but her mouth was formed into a confident smirk. Her brown hair was mostly covered by a black beret, with a lock on one side that was dyed a lighter brown. Her most prominent feature was sizable... Handbag. In one hand, she had a large black handbag covered in studs; In the other was a phone, which was clearly in the middle of a call. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was on the other end. Chains leveled his gun at her, hopefully he could at least stop her from causing anymore trouble.

"Hands in the air, kid." She was still smiling. Her phone was back in her pocket now, and she had one hand on her hip, holding her bag.

"Come on now, we can talk this out like adults," Chains let out a small snort, unimpressed. The girl had a full on grin now. "Alright then, it's your funeral." She flicked a switch on the handle, and the bag began clanking and clicking, splitting into pieces as it transformed. Within seconds, Chains found himself staring down the barrels of a full sized minigun.

"Oh." There was a second of silence. Houston and Neo had been watching the encounter unfold from the service corridor behind the teller's counter. "Shit." The six barrels began spinning as the gun emitted a low whine. Rather than take his chances with his armor, Chains ducked behind a nearby counter, just barely avoiding the hail of bullets sent flying at him. Even with him, Houston, and Neo, they probably wouldn't be able to take her down. She had the advantage, and none of them was able to flank her _and_ do enough damage to put her down. Houston's SMG was a little dinky at times, and Neo's pistol probably wasn't all that effective either, if her unwillingness to use it was any indication. Chains was pinned down behind the counter a few feet away from them. There was too much open space in between; if he tried to run to the others, he would probably get shredded by that girl and her fucking handbag minigun. Wolf was not going to hear the end of this.

"Impractical my ass…" Chains muttered, as he peeked around the side of the counter. This girl, whoever she was, clearly had some kind of military training. She was conserving ammo and staying back near the entrance. The wide open spot and minimal cover might have seemed like an inadvisable position to the untrained eye, but it let her keep an eye on the only route they could use to flank her while she made sure that they couldn't fire back. The crew was at a major disadvantage; All she had to do was delay them until the cops could arrive, but they needed to take her out fast or risk getting penned in by cops. Chains hefted his gun, and swung it around the side of the counter, blind firing in the hope that he could at least force her to take cover herself. There was the crackling of glass and a tsk of annoyance.

"Those were my favorite sunglasses."

 _'Least I hit 'er._ Chains shrugged. He took a moment to look over at his two allies; Houston and Neo were doing what good they could. They were more accurate, being able to actually aim, but this girl just shrugged the bullets off like they were nothing. Maybe if they had something heavier. As it was, his KSP was the heaviest gun they had. They needed to end this quick. Another quick check at the other two revealed that Neo had pulled out her parasol, having tossed away the useless pistol. Surprisingly though, her expression held only confidence, and maybe a hint of anticipation. She made a horizontal line with her hand, and made a patting down motion; Universal sign language for "stay down". Chains nodded in understanding and, at a lull in the gunfire, she walked out in front of the other girl.

"So you're finally ready to fight like a real huntress, then?" Both girls were grinning at this point. Neo extended the blade in her parasol, while the other girl began spinning up her minigun again, ready to mow her down. On some unspoken cue, both sprang into action, Neo switching between performing acrobatic flips, blocking with her extended parasol, and stabbing with the pointy bit; the still unnamed mystery girl backing up a step or two, keeping her distance with each advance. Chains and Houston were doing their best to support Neo, forcing the other girl to keep off her feet or tank the shots. As Neo got closer and closer, Chains noticed that her movements seemed to be getting more and more careless. She was flailing her limbs about, presenting a much larger target than she should have. He also noticed that there were several moments where she clearly let her guard down, leaving her wide open to any sort of counter attack. Had he been fighting her, Chains could have easily exploited any of them to go in for the kill. He could only assume that the minigun prevented the girl from reacting fast enough. Still, that didn't explain why Neo looked so confident if she was so tired that she was getting that sloppy. She had proven she was experienced enough to fight effectively, so why was she so sloppy here? It almost seemed like she was playing around with the girl.

Suddenly, Neo changed tactics; instead of advancing slowly towards the girl while dodging, she suddenly began cartwheeling back towards the counter Chains was hidden behind, ending with an acrobatic flip onto the counter itself. Neo stared at the girl with a smirk, daring her to pull the trigger. She was only too happy to oblige. Several seconds later, Neo was simply… gone. Chains almost couldn't believe it. There didn't seem to be a single thing left; even her umbrella seemed to have evaporated from the sheer force of the other girl's weapon. Finally, the minigun spun down, barrels smoking and ammo spent. The girl began methodically reloading the gun with a belt of ammo that she had wrapped around her neck like a scarf. The only sound was the tinkling of broken glass.

"One down…" She muttered. _Was this it?_ Chains' mind began racing. _Was this how the Payday Crew ended? Gunned down by a minigun toting teenager in a botched bank robbery?_ "Two to go."

"Alright boys, come quietly and we can- Hrk!" Chains was startled by the sudden exclamation. There was a metallic thud. Chains and Houston shared a glance at each other for confirmation, and Houston held up three fingers.

Two.

There was another thump, lighter than the first.

One.

The two heisters popped out of cover, guns at the ready, only to find a smiling Neo retracting a blood spattered blade into her parasol. The other girl was laying on the floor, both her hands clutched to her ribs and breathing raggedly. Obviously Neo had stabbed her; she ended up carving a chunk of lung out too, if the location of the wound was any indication.

"Well, that was… impressive." Dallas spoke up from the small staff corridor in the center of the building. Chains shot him a glare under his mask.

"Really?"

"You seemed like you had it under control." Dallas joked.

Neo just kept on smiling.

"You think she's gonna, y'know, die?" Chains asked, prodding the wounded girl with his shoe.

Neo shook her head, and pointed to the girl. Specifically, the fresh wound that was already coagulating. Far too fast for any normal person.

"...Huh." Dallas muttered appreciatively.

"Think it's that soul shit Torchwick mentioned? Ooh-rah, or whatever?" Houston inquired. All three heads turned to Neo, the team's resident aura expert by virtue of being the only one who knew anything about it. She nodded. That settled it.

"Tie her up and get her out of the way," Dallas commanded. They were professionals after all. "And for fuck's sake keep that gun away from her…" Dallas walked towards the back of the bank, checking on Wolf and the status of the drill itself. Just a few more minutes, and then they were out of here.

* * *

With a beep, the drill finished its job, leaving the locks destroyed and the vault defenseless. As Wolf got to work removing the drill, Dallas recalled Chains, Houston, and Neo from the front lobby. Just as predicted, their little shootout attracted the attention of a few cops, who had arrived seconds earlier. On foot. The police forces here were a joke compared to D.C. The officers had been cut down the second they stepped foot in the bank, but even now Dallas could hear sirens in the distance. Fortunately, the crew was almost ready to go.

"Vault's open, c'mon," Dallas informed the crew. By the time they had all returned to the vault, Wolf had already removed the drill, leaving it in pieces on the floor. As he pulled the vault open, the other four members of the crew savored the sweet taste of a successful heist as the door opened to reveal… a bunch of plastic.

While the older men gawked at the pile of plastic chips, momentarily forgetting that they were no longer on earth, Neo rushed in to investigate the neat stacks herself. She pulled one off the top of the pile, investigating it for any evidence of tampering or forgery. Nothing. This lien was totally clean. She couldn't help but gape at the four men she had teamed up with. This whole job had been a piece of cake, yet this might be the most Lien she had ever seen in one place. At least, the most that she was actually able to touch.

"Is it good?" Neo frowned for moment, wondering what Houston had meant by that. Obviously he was talking about the Lien, but maybe they had some sort of special test for it or something. Maybe they sacrificed their money to the money gods for good luck. Either way, it all checked out as far as she could tell. She gave him a thumbs up. Dallas let out a breath.

"Well, we aren't leaving empty handed either way. Bag it up." Each man pulled out a blue package that unfolded into a moderately sized duffel bag. Chains tossed one to Neo, and she set to work unfolding it and filling it with one of the stacks of Lien. Just a few minutes later, the vault had been emptied, and six duffel bags, filled to bursting with Lien were sitting on the floor.

"Five of us, six bags," Dallas muttered, holstering his pistol inside his jacket. Each heister carried one bag, logically, but that left one bag. "You guys go, I'll grab this one too." He finally decided. It would leave him defenseless against any cops, but hopefully the crew would be gone before that became a problem.

"This is the police! Put your hands up!"

Speak of the devil.

"Aw, there's no one here except these tied up people."

"Let's go, c'mon!" Dallas whispered. Hopefully they could get to the roof without the cops getting involved. Roman could drop in and pull out fast enough that they wouldn't have time to respond. As the crew snuck upstairs through the back stairwell, they could hear the murmuring of conversation between the police that had just arrived. Hopefully they would prioritize saving the civilians instead of catching the criminals.

As the crew reached the roof, Chains keyed his radio.

"Torchwick, we're on the roof, what's your ETA?" The radio crackled for a moment before a jaunty, and familiar, voice responded.

"I think I see you guys now. You're the four idiots wearing suits in eighty degree weather, right?" Houston let out a small scoff before Dallas interjected.

"Very funny, wise guy. You can crack jokes all you want once we're out of here."

"Very well," Torchwick was doing his best 'put upon' impression, "You should be able to see me now. I'm coming in from the south." Five heads swiveled to face south, and sure enough, a bullhead could be seen flying in. It would be only a few more seconds until…

"There they are!"

"Freeze right there, Asshole!"

The five heisters turned to point their guns at a pair of cops. They weren't wearing the standard uniforms that the other two had been, but they did have their guns out. That was a problem. The heisters didn't know how powerful these "dust bullets" were against body armor, and no one was eager to find out the hard way. The cops stopped in their tracks, immediately surrendering.

"Hey Burns?"

"Yeah Heyman?"

"Y'think we should have waited for backup like they said?"

"Probably."

Anything else they said was promptly drowned out by the tidal wave of lead that engulfed the two men.

"Wow," quipped Roman, pulling the Bullhead into a hover just above the roof of the bank, "And I thought I was cold hearted. That was so heart wrenching I think it brought a tear to my eye… No wait, that's just a bit of dust." The crew was relatively quiet as they loaded the bags onto the aircraft. They were all ready to bail after one too many close calls. While no one had been injured, you never knew when someone might show up.

"We got it all, let's go, let's go!" Chains commanded, giving Roman a quick 'Move up' gesture. As the Bullhead began to lift off, Dallas couldn't help but feel giddy at the crew's success. This heist had proven that this city wasn't just underprepared for any sort of major crime wave, they were completely fucking incompetent without those "Huntsmen". He let out a giddy laugh. So many new heists to plan, so much money to earn...

"The Payday Crew is BACK!" He had to shout over the whine of the engines, but he knew that civilians and cops alike had heard him. The rest of the crew gave their own shouts of agreement, with varying levels of excitement. Houston and Wolf seemed almost as excited as he was, high fiving in celebration. Chains was significantly less energetic, having come down from the adrenaline high from the gunfight earlier. He muttered in agreement, but refrained from celebrating with the rest of the crew. While Neo grinned and celebrated silently from the copilot's seat, Torchwick couldn't help but open his mouth for one more joke at the crew's expense.

"You're back? I didn't even realize you left," He joked, "Did you bring me anything nice?" Neo gave him a light jab, before patting one of the bags the crew had stolen.

"Hey, don't try me. I _will_ turn this Bullhead around, missy," She gave him a pointed smirk, before he finally broke.

"Yeah, you're right. You'd probably kill me in my sleep if I did that. You guys grab something good?" Neo patted the bag again, unzipping it to show the master thief that it was filled to the brim with stolen Lien. Roman whistled appreciatively.

"That's a lot of Lien right there. You guys won't be able to get away with just tossing that in an anonymous bank account over in Mistral," Dallas nodded in confirmation. They knew the drill. Before the money was clean enough to use, the crew needed to launder it through a 'Legitimate Business', otherwise it would be comically easy to trace. "Lucky for you, I know just the man for this. How about we go grab a drink, eh? My treat."

* * *

 **JESUS. I'll admit this whole chapter feels a day late and a dollar short to me, if you know what I mean. I edited it up as best I could, but my action scenes need some work and I just had trouble motivating myself to get going, nevermind all the homework I've been dealing with. Nevertheless, this chapter is done, and I now know that action is something I need to learn how to write better. This one could have been a bit more... dynamic, I guess. I think I said last chapter that the chapter after this would be the plane heist, and I lied. Whoops. There'll probably be an interlude chapter for the aftermath of this heist and the leadup to the next one.** **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

 **Anyways, to answer a question that one guest asked in the comments, and I'm sure has occurred to other readers: This story's crew follows the game's "canon" up to the Halloween 2016 update, so sorry, no Scarface. Sorry. Maybe I'll write a Berzerk Yang Vs. Coked up Tony Montana omake later. You guys'd like that, right?**

 **"YOU WANNA PLAY ROUGH? OKAY! SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!"**

 **"I'LL SHOW YOU PLAYING ROUGH!"**

 **Finally, I have written up a solid outline to "Synthetic Souls" (Working Title), a Fallout/RWBY crossover. It's all written out and pretty planned out right now, as compared to this tire fire of a fanfic that I've been making up as I go.**

 **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

 **I'm not going to start actually writing it yet, what with school and work and this fic already, I'd probably go crazy. Ideally, I should be able to get started on it mid-May, early June, and by that point school will be effectively over for me. (One benefit of AP Classes is that they basically end once you take the final.) All goes well, I'll be able to write it on an accelerated schedule and get it mostly or completely written over the summer. So stick around if that tickles your fancy.**

 **Anyways, that's all for now, folks.**

 **And really, I truly appreciate the support from the reviewers. It means a lot to me, guys.**


	6. Chapter 6

"So you're sure we can trust this 'Junior' guy?"

"Don't worry," Torchwick assured Dallas, "I've known this guy for years; he's the best information broker in town."

Dallas grunted in acceptance. If Torchwick was right about this guy, then it might be a good idea to get close to the guy himself. He'd be a good source of information for future targets.

"Annnd… Here it is!" Torchwick pulled the van over to alley next to the club, parking on the curb. While the four (now five) members of the crew wore masks specifically to avoid this sort of inconvenience, Torchwick's face was too well known. He had to get his own personal vehicle just for non-crime related errands such as these, with tinted windows to keep him being identified by a passing civilian and enough room in the back, even with six occupants, to hold the bags of lien without too much trouble.

As he exited the vehicle, Dallas took a moment to look around. They were obviously in the slums. The buildings all around were beaten up looking, and several had broken windows or graffiti all over. The front of the club was nothing special, a small neon sign being the only clue that it was different from any other building in the area.

"Just follow my lead," Torchwick whispered, hefting one of the bags over his shoulder. Naturally, Neo stood at his side, carrying a bag of her own; the crew simply grabbed a bag each, strapping them across their backs like they had so many times before. As Roman pushed open the door, he took a look around the club; there had clearly been construction crews earlier, based on all the equipment they had left lying around. It looked like someone had gutted the entire building.

"What the hell happened here, Junior?" Torchwick shouted, looking at a man dressed differently from the others sitting behind the bar. "I didn't know you were renovating," The man, Junior, evidently, sighed.

"Wasn't my choice, Roman. Some Huntress in training came in a couple weeks ago and wrecked the place. Same night you came in to ask for some of my guys…" His expression turned thoughtful, "The same guys who came back to me a man short with stories of clowns in suits. Sound familiar?" Torchwick just chuckled.

"Why, I haven't the foggiest idea what you could be talking about, and quite frankly I am _appalled_ you would insinuate otherwise. I was just here to present you with a lucrative business offer, but if that's how you're going to treat me then I can just go somewhere else…" Torchwick spun around to leave.

"No! Uh, no, no it's fine." Junior blurted out. Torchwick turned back to face him, and gestured to the crew to follow him to the bar.

"Now, what's this about a business offer?" Junior asked. Roman faked a frown.

"How rude, Junior. Not even going to buy me a drink first?"

Junior grimaced, before sighing and crouching down beneath the bar, reaching for a glass, muttering unhappily.

"I know that _she's_ ," Junior pointed at Neo, "your partner or whatever, but what's with the new guys? They your new lackeys or something?" Roman just smirked.

"Well, Junior my friend, I don't suppose you've seen the news recently? Specifically, news regarding recent crimes?" Junior made a face, searching his memories for anything that might match Roman's description.

"Can't say I have. Besides those dust robberies of yours, I haven't heard of any crimes worth mentioning. Why?" Torchwick frowned.

"Junior, my friend, I thought you knew everything, I'm disappointed in you. Don't you watch the news? It's important to keep up to date on current events, you know." Junior just frowned.

"Alright, alright, sheesh. 'Least Blondie didn't wreck the screens along with everything else," He pulled a remote from under the bar. "I swear, Torchwick, if you're just doing this to fuck with me I am not in the moo-" Junior's half-threat died in a cough as the television at the bar flicked onto the Vale News Network.

"-in ongoing breaking news, police are investigating the robbery just today at a local bank in downtown Vale. While civilian casualties were thankfully limited, police intervention resulted in the confirmed deaths of four officers and the injury of one huntress in training, who is currently being treated in the Central Vale Memorial Hospital for critical injuries," Junior's jaw dropped, "While representatives of the bank have been unavailable for questioning, current estimates say that the robbers may have stolen up to two million Lien from the vault, which they breached with an unknown device," Junior looked away from the screen, turning to Roman and his entourage, jaw still hanging. He weakly pointed at the men, and Roman nodded, grinning like a madman.

From somewhere over on the destroyed dance floor, a feminine voice called out "Holy shit", followed by a smack and a hushed "Language!" Junior simply slumped over, realizing just how dangerous these new men were. The news continued to run in the background, gathering a small mob of onlookers.

"So, now that I know just what you've been up to recently, how does _that_ involve me?" Junior hooked a thumb at the screen.

"Well, my friend, " Roman took on a more patronizing tone, "my… partners and I have recently come across a large sum of money. However, if we were to simply put it in a bank, we feel it might attract the _wrong kind_ of attention…"

"So you need someone to launder your money, then…" Junior realized, before Dallas interjected.

"We don't just deal in money. Think you can deal with... other substances?" Junior nodded.

"Yeah… I know some people, I should be able to launder, fence, or ah, _distribute_ anything you guys can't keep for yourselves." Junior ducked beneath the bar again, "By the way, you guys need a drink? I heard you had some money you needed to get rid of…" He hid a smile as he heard a scoff coming from the other side.

"Gin and Tonic."

"Beer."

"Vodka, no ice."

"Root beer."

The last one threw Junior off, but it wasn't unheard of; not everyone was a drinker. As long as the guy bought something and his money was good, he could be ordering crack cocaine as far as Junior was concerned.

Not that he kept any of that in _his_ club, no sir. This was a respectable establishment.

As he served each crew member their drink, Junior finally addressed the goliath in the room.

"So then, I'm not just doing this for free; I'm playing with some serious fire here. If you want me to potentially paint a target that big on my back, I need compensation. I want ten percent of anything you guys bring in."

"Five." Dallas' reply was quick and cold.

"Seven, this isn't just spare change, this is _big_ money we're talking here."

"Three. If you can't handle it, we can look somewhere else." Junior raised an eyebrow at Roman. The man just shrugged, sipping his drink with a grin plastered on his face. Junior groaned.

"Fine, five percent. You got it with you?" Roman simply heaved his bag onto the bar. The other five bags followed in quick succession. Junior unzipped one, and whistled.

"Well, they weren't too far off with that estimate. Six bags filled to the brim like that?"

"Oh ye of little faith," Roman mocked, "Just do your job, and you'll have a lot more than six piddly little bags coming through." Junior coughed a little at that.

"Right…" Junior called over a group of henchmen from the group that was gathered around the television, "Take these to the back, get someone counting them up." He turned back to the crew, "I'll have it all wired to you as I get it taken care of. Give me a couple weeks." Dallas nodded, and turned his attention back to the television. Apparently the police were finally talking to the press about the heist. The commissioner himself was giving a speech on it.

* * *

"Citizens of the Kingdom of Vale, today is a dark day. Four brave officers have lost their lives in the line of duty, protecting innocent civilians from a group of violent criminals. Thanks to their intervention, as well as that of a Huntress-in-training, civilian casualties were, thankfully, minimized. While these criminals do not seem to be connected to the White Fang, they have proven themselves to be ruthless, willing to go to any lengths to achieve their goals. Also, we have no confirmation yet, but we believe that they may have a connection with the known criminal Roman Torchwick. While we are currently unsure whether this indicates a larger syndicate of criminals, or simply an alliance of convenience, our mission is the same either way. The Valean Council is hereby forming a specialized task force of Huntsmen and Police investigators in order to root out and end the threat these criminals pose to society. Here to speak as a representative of both Beacon, and the Huntsmen side of this new task force, Glynda Goodwitch."

* * *

"Here to speak as a representative of both Beacon, and the Huntsmen side of this new task force, Glynda Goodwitch."

Cinder had to admit. She had been taken aback when she first heard about the bank robbery. While the robbery itself was nothing particularly special, save the boldness of the robbers' strategy, It did have one _very_ helpful side effect.

 _Panic._

Cinder's master plan relied on the entire city of Vale being completely terrified. Afraid that at any moment they could get caught in the White Fang's latest bombing, or one of Torchwick's petty thefts. Or a bank robbery.

Cinder grinned. She would have to show Roman her appreciation. This 'Payday Crew' was exactly what she needed. Another set of pawns to set loose against Ozpin and his allies; more vectors to spread of fear and panic among the civilian populace, and a complete unknown at that. As she extricated herself from the chair she had been lounging in, Cinder briefly considered having another conversation with this 'Bain' character. She had dismissed most of his stories as rather… grandiose and exaggerated, but their most recent escapade matched the _modus operandi_ of those heists exactly; It was straight out of a movie.

There were several prime targets that Cinder had been forced to ignore due to the limits of her own resources. The White Fang was poorly suited to anything that required a modicum of stealth or discretion, and Torchwick was just one man, even with his 'sidekick' in tow. The crew, however, would be perfect. They were experienced, intelligent, and had no qualms with killing, if the news report was anything to go by. They were a godsend for her plans; Torchwick was a fool to waste these men's talents on petty dust shop thefts. Cinder would be sure to… _direct_ their attention to targets more suited to their level of skill. Finally, she found what she had been looking for: Dallas' radio set, which allowed him, and now her, to communicate with 'Bain'. For some reason, only the crew's radios were capable of contacting the mysterious man, despite her attempts to catch the signal with other devices. Every attempt by her to triangulate the source of his signal had been met with failure. Clearly, Bain was someone who knew how to keep from being found if he didn't want to be. As she put the headset on, Cinder considered her last conversation with the man. He had mentioned that there were more members of the crew than just Dallas and company; perhaps she could snatch her own team of skilled robbers. The original four were clearly allegiant to Torchwick more than anyone else. Perhaps if another group were to arrive, then Cinder could influence them first. If they could pull off a bank robbery like that without breaking a sweat, then who knew how far they could go? How far they would go? They simply wanted wealth, and Cinder could more than provide. She keyed the microphone, a short burst to call the attention of the man on the other end of the line. Within a minute, he responded.

"You again," He let out a small chuckle, "So, what do you need from Ol' Bain this time?"

* * *

As the news continued to play in the background, the crew reveled in their success with the residents of the bar. With the rest of the crew distracted by conversation, alcohol, or both,Torchwick made his exit. 'Using the restroom' would be the invariable excuse, should anyone decide to question his whereabouts, but it would be painfully obvious to anyone who caught him the act that he was doing no such thing. Puffing a cigar to calm his own nerves, Roman pulled out the device he had lifted from Chains. _His_ radio. Somehow, only the crew's radios could contact their boss, Bain. Roman finally decided to see what this guy was like for himself, and this radio was his key to that. He turned it on, donning the headset that went with it. After one last puff, he clicked the radio once, just enough to call attention without revealing his identity. Within seconds, a raspy voice responded, distorted either intentionally or simply by the limitations of the radio.

"Well, well, well, it looks like I need to I have a chat with the boys about keeping an eye on their gear," A smile tugged at Roman's lips, "I know this isn't Cinder, and none of the crew would bother with that 'alerting me' shit."

"Well, what can I say?" Roman retorted, "I'm not a master thief for nothing."

"Of course. You must be 'Roman'. Dallas told me about you. I suppose I should thank you for giving my boys a place to stay during these… difficult times."

"Really," Roman chuckled, "Well, as much as I'm sure your gratitude is worth, I have a better idea." Bain hummed.

"Oh really? And just what kind of idea would that be?"

"Well, _Mister_ Bain," Roman clapped his hands together, posing as if the man himself were present, "I have got one hell of a deal for you…"

* * *

Bain reclined in his chair, wiping his brow with an arm. Roman made some good points; it would have been shortsighted of him to not realize some of those things himself, but he couldn't do much about them himself. Roman was offering a way around that on a silver platter, with the best kind of guarantee you could get in the criminal underworld: A deal where both sides got something they wanted.

Speaking of both sides getting what they wanted, where was Locke with those plans for the device? He'd had plenty of time to get in and organize the transport; Bain could have done it himself in the time he'd given the man, and he didn't even have to hack in. It wasn't like he didn't have the capability to cover his tracks. Maybe it was time to give him a call, remind him what was on the line. It took only minutes to send Locke a call; routed through a half dozen proxies, naturally. With the kind of heat Bain had on himself, there was no such thing as too paranoid.

"Hello?"

"Locke, it's me. I just wanted to check up on our _package_." There was a tiny gasp of recognition.

"Ah, yes. I was just about to call you about that, actually,"

Bain rolled his eyes. _Riiight._

"Anyway, here's what I've got for you; I've gotten the device you're after on a standard Murkywater aerial armored transport. Same sort of thing as a while back, you know? Similar aircraft, similar layout. I even got you a quick way on the plane."

* * *

"Alright crew, here's what we've got." The entire remaining Payday Crew was gathered around Dallas' corner. Even though the man himself was missing, it was still a good spot for planning out heists. "Locke's managed to get our device onto one of Murkywater's transport planes. In order to keep suspicion off of our real goals, we'll be grabbing a whole laundry list of valuable items that he's also managed to get on the same flight. That way, the cops will be thrown off our trail long enough to let us grab our scientist friend, once we get around to that." Bain paused for a moment. "Since the last time you guys did this, the Murkies have stepped up security, so there's no sitting in hold and popping up when you're ready this time. Instead, you'll be posing as crew members on the craft. You can carry your kit onboard among the tools, and change out when you're ready. I'll have Locke fast track your ah… resumes."

"So then," Hoxton interrupted, "It's just a matter of figuring out who's goin', right?"

"Pretty much. We can't just send anyone, though, Hox. Your face is too well known, so I can't let you take this one. Jacket would attract too much attention too, so he's out as well." Hoxton opened his mouth to object, but realized that it was true. His breakout a few months ago had plastered his name and face across every Billboard, T.V., and newspaper in the country. No way he could pass for a civilian.

"I'll go," Bodhi volunteered, "Sokol should come too. He was with us the last time." The rest of the crew nodded appreciatively, except for Sokol himself.

"Doesn't mean I liked it…" He muttered.

"Alright, that makes for two of us. Anyone else?" Bodhi took a look around. "There'll be a lot close quarters on the plane; Jiro, you wanna join in? That sword of yours'll be real good for the job." Jiro muttered something in Japanese before replying.

"Very well. I will come with you."

"Great, now we just need one more person…" Bodhi trailed off.

"I'll go," Wick spoke. There was a moment of silence.

"Alllright then, I guess that makes four. You got all that, Bro?"

"Yea, I got it. Bodhi, Sokol, Jiro and Wick; I'll send Locke the information. You'll be posing as last minute hired help, so no one should bat an eye at the new faces, hopefully." The sound of keys clicking on a keyboard could be heard over the phone. "Alright, so once you guys get in the air, you'll have a limited window of time to do this. Locke's got a special drop zone set up, and if the loot falls too far outside of it, then he won't be able to get it out of there in time to avoid the cops. If we show our hand too early, then they'll just turn the plane around, and we won't even reach the drop zone, or we might get overrun with Murkies before we reach it. The timing is going to be tight, but I think you can do it. Other than those extra constraints, this shouldn't be too different from the last time we did this. Just move through the plane, open the rear doors, and send the loot flying. Locke said he'd get our way down taken care of, so I'll trust him for now. He's got as much riding on this as we do. I'll leave you all to prepare for right now; the plane lifts off in two weeks."

* * *

"Miss King," Aldstone's voice cut over the din of the gang's various activities, "Mister Bain has requested your audience over the phone."

The gang's meeting had already ended a couple hours ago, and Sydney, unfortunately, hadn't been able to go along with them. She had returned to her studio in the garage, and was working on her latest creation. With a sigh, she looked up from the unfinished mask, turning to see Aldstone holding the receiver of a phone. She grabbed it, only giving him the briefest of thanks, before turning away.

"Bain! What brings ya' to my corner of the safehouse?" Bain couldn't help but chuckle at the young woman's exuberance. It was refreshingly different from the standoffish nature of most of the rest of the crew.

"Sydney, think you can keep a secret?"

"A secret? For you, sure I can. Lay it on me. I won't tell anyone."

"Good. I'm sure you've figured that Dallas and the boys have been making trouble over in wherever the hell they are.

"Obviously. Dallas wouldn't take a day off from heisting unless you paid 'im." Another chuckle.

"Yes, well, they've attracted some attention, and now they've made some friends. Partners, even."

"Oooh, they have been busy, haven't they? But what's that got to do with me?"

"Well, somewhere along the way, the guys seem to have unofficially taken on another crew member. I say unofficially because-"

"...Because they don't have a mask yet..."

"Yep. Figured I'd contact our resident mask expert for a high quality, official crew member's mask." Sydney nearly jumped out of her chair in excitement. She had been able to work on Rust's mask back when they brought him in, but all the others she had made were just for fun.

"I'll do it!" She responded quickly. "Just give me something to work off of," She pulled out a small sketchbook. "What's this new guy's name? What do they do? What do they like?" She sounded like a damn schoolgirl. Why shouldn't she? New crew members were a big deal, and it wasn't everyday that she got someone wearing one of _her_ masks. She *had* to make sure this one was good.

"Heh, you sure sound excited." _Dammit, he's onto me_ , "Alright, here's what I know about 'em: Her name's Neopolitan. Y'know, like the ice cream? Goes by Neo, usually. Apparently, she's mute, too."

"Seriously? Like, Jacket mute, or _mute_ mute?"

"From what I've been told, she just doesn't talk. Occasional grunts, maybe, that sort of thing, but no actual _talking._ "

"Really..." Sydney's tone was thoughtful, as it was whenever mask making was involved. This would be an interesting mask indeed, and an interesting person wearing it, too.

 _Mute, huh?_ Sydney's gaze slid to the mask she had been working on. It was a normal face for the most part, but instead of a mouth, there was a row of stitches, in the shape of a grin. _Yeah… That'll work._

* * *

 ***Lightning strikes as a I claw my way out of the ground***

 **I LIIIVEEEE!**

 **Alright seriously guys I'm so fucking sorry about the wait. I got slammed with school work, as well as... several other things... that all lead to practically no chance to write the past couple of weeks. As a result, this whole chapter feels kinds rushed to me. I tried to fix it in editing, but what can you do?**

 **Remember when I said I wanted to update every couple of weeks or so? Ah, to be so young and innocent.**

 **Anyway, here's the next chapter, fucking finally. Few things I'd like to say now, just FYI.**

 **Firstly, I WILL NOT abandon this fic. I'll make sure it gets an ending even if I have to spend the next two years doing it. I may take forever to write, but I _will_ write it.**

 **Secondly, the actual chapter is a bit shorter than usual. As apology, I have written a short omake that came to me while I was writing. Hopefully it's worth a laugh or two.**

 **Finally, thanks again to everyone who's been reading. Don't be afraid to leave a review or shoot me a message, I'll be glad to answer.**

 **Spring break starts after next week for me, and I've got a five hour car ride ( _at least_ ) to visit relatives planned for it, so I'll have plenty of time to write. If I get the chance, I might try to write the first chapter of _"Synthetic Souls",_ A Fallout 4/RWBY crossover that I was originally going to work on along with this once school finally got out. Consider this omake and that new story my apology for this, and possibly the next couple of unplanned hiatuses. Whatever happens, the stories will be written. **

**Because I crave validation in the forms of likes and faves.**

* * *

Omake

"Infinite Possibilities"

60...

59...

58...

Sokol wasn't ready to die. He was still just a young man, only twenty-five. He didn't deserve to get blasted into pieces by some strange device, even if was thief. Of course, all that came out of his mouth was a strangled mix of panicked wheezing and snippets of Russian. A slap across his face snapped him out of it.

"Snap out of it!" Dragan shouted, "We figure out how to stop it, not cry like babies."

"Right," Sokol mumbled, "Figure it out, right..."

"Hey, what's going on down there?" Wick shouted, "You need some help?"

"Fucking device is doing thing, I don't know. Could be making sandviches, far as I know." Wick sighed. The cops were coming from the roof and from the hall. Jiro was doing a good job of keeping them back, but they were pushing him back.

"I'm coming down, what's wrong with it?"

Sokol began mashing buttons on the strange device, hoping something would just shut it off. All he managed to do was make the screen flash the words _"New Coordinates Locked In"_. Dragan slapped the back of his head.

" _Glupan!_ What the fuck did you do?"

"At least I'm trying, _mudak_! You do something, then!"

"Calm down, both of you. Dragan, go defend the stairwell. Sokol, go help Jiro." Wick ordered the two men. He crouched over the device, inspecting it. "Bain, you got anything?" Bain hummed over the radio.

"I don't suppose there's an off button..." He half joked. Wick could only facepalm and mutter at the bad joke. He was shocked out of his daze by the shouts of the defending crew members. As he readied his own weapons, Jiro and Sokol appeared around the corner, backpedaling while firing at the advancing cops, With Dragan doing much the same with the officers approaching down the stairs. Wick took a moment to look back at the strange device.

3...

2...

1...

He shouted, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes.

* * *

Ozpin sipped his coffee as he worked on the various administrative tasks that accompanied the title of Headmaster. He sighed. Truly, it was an unenviable position. Suddenly, there was a bright flash in the middle of his office. Ozpin averted his eyes, covering them with an arm. When he looked back, there were four dazed looking men standing in the place of the flash.

"Hello, gentlemen. Might you be so kind as to tell what you all are doing in my office?"

* * *

Teams RWBY and JNPR filed into the room, along with several other teams of students.

"What kind of teachers do you think these guys'll be?" Ruby wondered.

"I dunno, when I asked some upperclassmen about it, they said they'd never heard of an 'Unconventional Team Tactics Class'," Yang said, "What kind of tactics are they supposed to teach us anyway?"

"Well, I'm sure they must be well decorated and famous hunters to be teaching a class here at Beacon," Weiss opined, before muttering "And besides, this team could use whatever help they can get..."

"Oooh, I wonder if we've heard of them," Ruby gasped, "I heard that Spruce Willis used to be a huntsman before he retired. What if it's him?

"That... doesn't look like Spruce Willis to me..." Blake said, pointing at the four men who were standing at the front of the class. All four of them were wearing suits, and three of them had masks. One was in the arena in the center of the room, which was frozen over, playing some sort of game with a curved stick and a puck, pushing it back and forth across the ice. One was wearing a white suit, sitting on the desk in a meditative pose. Even from where they sat, the students could see parts of a large tattoo on his chest. The last two were locked in discussion, one wearing a pair of sunglasses, and the other wearing a sneering mask with a checker pattern on the forehead. Once everyone was sitting, the four men converged at the front of the class.

"Welcome to 'Unconventional Team Tactics Class'," The checker masked man said in a thick accent, "My name is Professor Dragan. These are Professors Wick and Jiro, and over in the arena making a fool of himself is Professor Sokol."

"Hey! This is a good idea to teach them. Hockey is the best sport," Sokol complained, "And besides, we will teach the to be a team like us." Dragan just sighed.

"Your first lesson will be working together in unfamiliar terrain. Teams will enter four at a time, and fight in the arena until only one is left." 'Professor' Wick informed them.

"And don't forget your weapons," Sokol added, "That will be the fun part."

* * *

"Well, now it's our turn!" Yang said, stretching her arms. "You remember the plan?"

"Of course I remember the plan, you dolt; We increase our maneuverability, and decrease theirs," Weiss huffed, "You just make sure that you don't wipe out like last time."

As the two members of Team FNKI entered the field, Yang couldn't help but join in on their trash talking.

"You should try rollerblading sometime! It's super fun!" The faunus member of the duo said, "It'd probably take you a while, though, since you're so... you know, top-heavy." Yang's eyes flared red.

"Excuse me?" She began, as the arena changed. In seconds, the terrain was set. One half was covered in steaming vents, and the other half in urban ruins. The four fighters took their positions as Port counted down. With a shout of "Begin!" from the professor, Team WY's plan sprang into action.

"Now!" Yang shouted. Weiss obliged, using a large package of Dust to cover the entire arena in a thin layer of ice. Within seconds, WY took off, skating over the ice like professionals as FN slipped along the icy ground.

"No fair!" The girl shouted, taken out of her element and slipping on her now highly unstable skates. Her partner had little more luck, barely managing to keep himself upright.

"I'll show you 'top-heavy'!" Yang shouted, skating towards the pair, using the recoil from her gauntlets to propel herself at incredible speeds. It was all the two fighters could do to shield their faces from the incoming high velocity blonde.

There was a bone shattering crunch as Yang collided with them shoulder first, sending both skidding out of the ring. The crowd collectively flinched at the sight, before rising in applause at team WY's victory.

"I'm so proud of my students!" Sokol sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Go on, kids, show them the true spirit of Hockey!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Alright guys, just act natural. Locke got you a security pass for your ah, luggage, so just head on up and blend in with the crew."

"Roger that, Bain. Over and out." As he concealed the headset of his radio, Bodhi scanned across the airfield. "You guys ready for this?"

The members of the team were all dressed similarly in a generic maintenance worker's outfit: overalls, a plain tee, and a hat for a couple of them to round out the look.

"Let's just get this over with. We haven't taken off and I already miss the ground," Sokol complained. Jiro grunted in agreement.

"Right, right. Let's just get over there and mingle," Bodhi whispered, "Just gotta play the part and everything else will fall into place."

As the team made their way over to the Murkywater transport, Wick pointed out an unfortunately familiar group of black-clad paramilitary soldiers.

"Bain, we've got a problem," He whispered, "We've got Zulus here, a whole team of them."

"What!?" Bain spluttered, "Locke didn't tell me about any reinforcements. Give me a minute to check with him. For the time being, business as usual, just keep blending in." The radio clicked off.

"Roger that…" Bodhi grumbled, "Business as usual…"

As the crew got close to the aircraft, they encountered the first security barrier. Armed guards surrounded each entrance to the aircraft to keep it secure.

"Hold up," One guard stopped the men as they approached the ramp, "ID's, please."

"Of course, here ya go, man," Bodhi handed him a piece of paper, detailing the crew's 'employment' as extra help, and giving clearance for their bags as 'tools'. The guard muttered under his breath as he read the sheet. After a moment, he passed the sheet back to Bodhi, and waved them through.

"Alright, it checks out," He said, "Don't let me catch you poking around where you shouldn't."

"Of course, man. We're _oscar mike,_ as you military types say." Bodhi joked. The four men made their way up the ramp, and into the cargo hold itself. Within the transport, there were dozens of packages holding all sorts of loot. Some held safes, ostensibly filled with the loot the crew was after, others held ammunition, supplies, and in the back, there were even a few Humvees. The crew made their way to the upper level, where they found several other members of the the aircraft's crew.

"Right, you guys just blend in for the time being. I need to go, uh, _use the restroom_ for a minute," Bodhi said, creeping off to find a secluded spot to contact Bain. Eventually, he locked himself in a toilet, pulling out the radio headset and tuning in to Radio Bain.

"We're in. Everyone's on board and ready to rock on your go." He informed Bain.

"Right," Bain replied, "I managed to get a hold of Locke. Apparently the government decided to provide some of their own security for this trip at the last minute." Bain sighed. "Well, I guess we stick to Plan A; find the device and get it out."

"Roger that, I'll tell the guys. What's our escape plan?"

"Locke said that one of the Humvees should have a marking on it, something in the windshield. It should be outfitted to help with your escape, just toss all the loot in the back. I guess he'll tell you more when you get there?" Bain sounded as confused as Bodhi felt. Were they going to just hijack the Humvee after the plane landed or something?

"Alright then," Bodhi responded uncertainly, "I'll trust your judgement, I guess." Suddenly, the transport's PA crackled to life.

"We'll be taking off shortly, so if everyone would please find a seat, and we'll be off shortly."

Bodhi quickly concealed the radio, almost running into a guard as he exited the toilet.

"Whoo, you might want to let that air out for a bit," he joked, "Ordered Mexican last night, starting to regret it now, y'know?" The guard just grunted in disgust, moving on to find another toilet. Bodhi chuckled, moving to find the other three men to inform them of the plan.

* * *

"Wakey wakey, Dallas" Dallas awoke with a snort, startled out of his sleep by the melodious voice of a surprisingly cheerful Torchwick, given that he himself was already feeling the full effects of a hangover.

" _This guy_ has _to be a vampire or something,"_ Dallas thought, _"he was drinking almost as much as us."_ However, in articulating the question to Torchwick, it came out as a mumbled "Not... Hungover… Why?" Torchwick chuckled.

"I was wondering about that. Among other things, Aura is great for dealing with alcohol and the like, but you don't seem to have one." Dallas groaned. Of course. He had forgotten about the soul magic bullshit for a brief, blissful moment. "We even tried opening yours up, after we noticed that you and the boys were looking a bit more tipsy than you should have, but nothing! I don't know how you guys managed to pull off the stuff you did with Aura, much less without it." Torchwick sounded impressed. "Anyway, I have no idea why, but it seems you four can't generate an Aura. Sucks for you I guess." He made a pout. "Also, the boss lady wants to talk to you, so make yourself presentable. It doesn't take genius to guess why she wants to talk, and from my experience, anything that has to do with her is never a pleasant experience." Dallas nodded, still squinting in the light. It was only after he rubbed his eyes for the fourth time that he realized that Torchwick had already left.

After cleaning himself up as best as possible, Dallas stumbled into the hall, out to the kitchen where Houston, Roman and Neo were enjoying breakfast.

"Sup," Houston greeted. Dallas grunted in response, grabbing a mug of coffee and taking the fourth seat at the table. For several minutes, they just sat in silence, each enjoying the peace and quiet, until Dallas broke the spell.

"So, Cinder wants to talk to us. You've got experience dealing with her, what should I expect?" Torchwick groaned in exasperation.

"Well, seeing as how you've already met her, I shouldn't need to tell you about her _sparkling_ personality," he replied, "But other than that, just let her think she's in control. She seems to have a thing for threatening people with mutilation of the ah, _special areas_ for failing her." Dallas and Houston both winced. "Yeah, me too. I wonder if it's a fetish of hers? Anyways, I'm guessing she just wants to chat about your little escapade yesterday, which could be a good or bad thing. Just let her take the lead, and try not to piss her off, and you should get out alive and un-mutilated."

Just then, Wolf and Chains stumbled into the kitchen, both looking as hungover and bleary-eyed as Dallas had been when he woke up. Wolf was dressed in a pair of casual pants and plain shirt; Chains wore only his underwear from the night before. Roman quickly covered Neo's eyes.

"Good lord, Chains, there's children present," He joked, "Put a shirt on why don't you." Neo blew a raspberry at the antics, and Chains fixed Roman with a baleful glare, debating whether or not it was worth it to argue. Eventually, he conceded, and returned to his room with a huff.

"Pancakes over there if you want 'em," Houston pointed to the kitchen counter, with a large stack of pancakes cooling on a plate, with a variety of toppings sitting next to it.

"Thanks…" Wolf mumbled, moving to get a stack for himself, and perusing the toppings. He finally settled on maple syrup for himself, noticing the tub of ice cream sitting next to it. He could guess who had decided to use that as a topping. Wolf chuckled to himself. That girl's eating habits were downright horrifying; how anyone could survive on that much ice cream was truly a mystery. As Chains returned to the kitchen, now wearing a plain T-shirt and sweatpants, he grabbed himself a cup of coffee, sitting down in an unclaimed chair and taking a large gulp of the scalding brew.

"So, what's on the plan for today?" He asked unceremoniously.

"Cinder wants a meeting, so I'll be dealing with her," Dallas replied, "You guys can find something to entertain yourselves for the time being. I don't know, make sure all our gear is ready for the next heist." Chains grunted. Cleaning and maintenance of the crew's gear after a heist could take the better part of a day, and it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

" _Today's going to be a long day…"_ Dallas realized, taking another sip of coffee.

* * *

 _approaching dz in 20_

 _get going_

As Bodhi read the message on his disposable phone, a small smile grew on his face. _It was time._ Nudging Jiro, Bodhi showed him the message, telling him all he needed to know. With Jiro passing on the news to the other two heisters, he stood up, stretching quickly, and moved to track down his gear bag, as well as the rest of the team's bags. Pulling his out of a compartment, he took one last inventory of the aircraft's force composition. While the Zulus were far fewer in number, only a few squads of the "regular" troops, they were far more alert, not to mention armed. The murkies, by comparison, were off guard altogether; mostly unarmed and off duty employees hitching a ride on a company transport from one assignment to another. Even the armed guards were chatting with their buddies, really only there to prevent anyone getting any funny ideas about company property.

Besides, who'd try to rob a plane in flight _twice_ , let alone once?

Bodhi concealed a grin. This would be almost too easy, once they took care of the Zulus. Finding an empty toilet, Bodhi entered it, locking the door securely behind him. It took only minutes to put on his armored vest and reassemble his weapons. Naturally, his signature Platypus rifle was slung on his back, ready to ventilate anyone he encountered. As a backup, he also kept a Baby Deagle in a holster on his side, in case of emergencies.

Exiting the bathroom, Bodhi nearly ran into Jiro, only recognizing him after nearly blowing his head off. He was armed and masked, with Wick and Sokol following behind. As Bodhi lowered his pistol, he heard to steady _clunk_ of boots on metal grating, raising his pistol just in time to fire three shots into the torso of the Murky guard, sending him to the floor.

"Whole damn plane probably heard that," Bodhi said, "Let's get going before Johnny Law comes to investigate." Without another word, the rest of the team followed him back into the bowels of the plane, ready to fight their way through every armed soldier onboard in the pursuit of money and their allies. As Bodhi turned on his radio, the rest of the crew doing likewise, he quickly tuned to Bain's frequency, ready to get the full picture on how they would be getting out of this mess with the loot. Instead of Bain's raspy smoker voice, however, the voice on the other end was decidedly more… jovial.

"Ah, good, you've finally checked in. Only took you five minutes."

"Locke? What are you doing, what happened to Bain?" Bodhi exclaimed.

"The one and only," Locke replied, "I… Notified Bain that I had the knowledge necessary to help you achieve your goals, so he let me take over, yeah? Anyway, I'll be here to walk you through getting the loot, and getting off that plane in one piece." Bodhi sighed.

"Alright, fine. What've you got for us?"

"Well, only just the cargo manifests for the transport you're on, detailing exactly what's valuable, and which vaults are holding it. I should think that warrants a thank you, at least, yeah?" Sokol scoffed.

"I will thank you when we are on solid ground. I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

"Yes, well, anyway, why don't you chaps make your way back to the cargo bay, and we'll get to heisting."

As the group of four entered the cavernous cargo bay of the transport, they were greeted by a squad of Murkies that had been sent to check out the noise caused by the earlier altercation. Four weapons targeted four guards, and seconds later four bodies slumped to the ground.

"Alright, we're in the cargo bay," Bodhi informed, "What's first?"

"Well, before you go shooting up the plane, you should make sure that your escape is correctly prepared. If my guess is correct, you all should be near the front of the plane, right next to the car."

"Yeah, Bain told us one of the Humvees should be marked?"

"Indeed. Check the windshields, one of them should have a clue." The crew quickly found the vehicle in question, strapped down to a wooden pallet with a Joker playing card trapped under the wiper like a parking ticket.

"Alright, vehicle secure. What next?"

"Well, besides the device that you boys are after, there are three vaults that you're going to want to open. Each one has multiple layers of security for you to crack through. Fortunately for us, this transport has all the equipment we need to bypass all of them. I should warn you though, the government's vault runs on its own system; you'll need to take care of that one yourselves. Should be easy enough to find, just look for the armed Government soldiers, yeah?"

"Right," Bodhi turned to Wick and Sokol, "You two, go find the device, Sokol you've got the drill, you know what to do," With an affirmative from both of the men, Bodhi turned to face Jiro, "Alright, on me, Jiro. Looks like we've got a few errands to run." Bodhi paged Locke on the radio, "Alright, what's first?"

"Right, the first part you'll need to find is the Murkywater security codes. There should be a rack of servers somewhere in the plane, you can download all the codes off of there. I would check up front, near the cockpits." Bodhi nodded.

"Right. Jiro, let's go." As they began searching through the front of the plane, Locke continued to list off the supplies they would need.

"After you get those codes, you'll need to hunt down a few keycards. One for each vault, so three, in total. I can't really tell you where to look, they could be anywhere. Maybe you'll get lucky, and find a keycard box, like back at the station," He chuckled, "Yeah, Bain told me about that one. Real slick job you boys pulled off there. Murkywater was none the wiser, until they found the empty trains the next morning. Lotta guys got called into the boss' office after that stunt, let me tell ya'."

"Locke," Bodhi interrupted, "Let's focus on this heist for right now. Also, just found the codes; downloading 'em now."

"Right you are, just hit the download button and give it a second, then grab the hard drive. There's a lot of codes in there; I guess Murkywater really doesn't want you all getting into their knicker drawers, eh?" Bodhi couldn't help but chuckle at the joke before Jiro called his attention.

"Bodhi, 私はキーカードを見つけた! Over here!" Taking only moments to disconnect and pocket the hard drive, Bodhi ran over to Jiro, finding the box Locke had mentioned that held several key cards.

"Awesome," Bodhi grabbed a card, "Grab the other two, and let's go."

"Was that the sound of keycard acquisition I heard?" Locke chimed in, "That's perfect. Just one last layer of security you'll need to bypass, and this one's the best one: You're going to need to find the head of security on the plane, he's most likely upstairs in the passenger seats, and you need to steal his keys."

"His keys?" The unusual command threw Bodhi off his step.

"Yes, he has a set of keys that act as a final failsafe against unwanted incursion. Like I said, Murkywater _*really*_ doesn't want you going through their stuff. I'd call them paranoid, but, you know…" He trailed off. Locke had a point; this much security was justified, seeing as how they were currently in the process of trying to get past said security. "Anyway, the head of security should be easy enough to spot, he sticks out like a sore thumb." He continued rambling as the two men pushed their way upstairs, gunning down armed guards as they appeared, clearing the upper level room by room.

"We're getting swamped over here. If you've got a second, we need some help." Wick called over the radio.

"Hang on a second, buddy, we're coming to you," Bodhi responded, nodding to Jiro. They had just finished clearing the latest section of the plane, leaving only one room left. Before that however, Wick and Sokol needed help. Clearing out the Murkywater troops on the catwalk above, Bodhi and Jiro spotted Wick and Sokol hiding amongst the scarce cover the aircraft's cargo provided, engaging in a firefight with the remnants of one of the squads of Zulus. Rather than alert them to his presence, Bodhi simply shouldered his rifle, took aim, and fired, nailing one of them in the face and leaving a gaping hole in its place. With the combined fire of the four men, the squad of paramilitary soldiers quickly withered, leaving only the heisters standing.

"You guys still alright? What's your ETA on the drill?" Bodhi shouted.

"We'll survive," Wick replied coolly, "Took a couple of bullets, but nothing critical. Sokol's just being dramatic." He pointed to the wheezing russian.

"Hey, fuck you!" Sokol complained, "Those guys hit hard. I got nailed right in the chest." He patted the ballistic vest that had saved his life just seconds earlier, "Good thing I got this. Anyway, drill is going well. Should be done in about five minutes or so."

"That's perfect, because you've got about five minutes till you're over the drop zone," Locke cut in, "The drop zone that, need I remind you, you _cannot_ miss if you want to get out of this without a pair of handcuffs for each of you. So hurry up!"

"Go," Wick ordered Jiro and Bodhi, "We'll be fine now. Take care of the other objectives." With a nod, the team of four returned to their previous tasks, Jiro and Bodhi preparing to breach the final passenger section of the transport. On an unspoken count, the two men kicked in the doors, Bodhi's Baby Deagle and Jiro's Uzi spitting lead in a cone of death that quickly cut down anyone on the other end.

"Look for the security guy, he's got to be here somewhere," Bodhi ordered. With a grunt of confirmation, Jiro began scanning the rows of seats for the man, stopping near the back.

"He is here," He informed. The man in question was uniquely dressed, wearing a now bloodstained plain shirt and cargo pants, as compared to the camouflage fatigues that most Murky soldiers wore. He was crouched sniveling in the middle of a row, too afraid for his own life to try to defend himself.

"Oh god please don't kill me please please don't-"

"Just shut up and give us the keys, bro." Bodhi cut off his begging with a kick to the head, aiming his pistol at the prone man.

"Okay, okay, yeah, sure, just let me grab them…" The man's hands were shaking wildly, barely able to complete the most basic of functions, but he eventually pulled the keys out of a pocket, handing them to Jiro.

"ありがとう" Jiro muttered, before Bodhi crouched over him with a cable tie.

"Just to make sure you don't get any ideas…"

* * *

"Well, here we are. Last stop before the afterlife," Roman Joked, "I'll make sure your last will and testament is in order." Dallas grunted, unamused.

"Very funny. Thanks for the ride."

"Oh, but of course. 'Roman Torchwick Taxi Services: Our prices are a _steal_!" Torchwick giggled at his own joke. Dallas just shot him an annoyed glare. "...What? I'm not allowed to make a good joke now and then?" Roman was pouting now, giving Dallas an overblown frown that would put their best masks to shame. Dallas just grimaced a bit, still feeling the after effects of his hangover.

"Mhm, whatever." Dallas gave Torchwick a short wave as he turned around, trudging his way into the warehouse Cinder was currently using as a base. Just before knocking, remembered the instructions Torchwick had passed on from Cinder.

" _Make sure you're wearing your mask when you arrive,"_ He had ordered, _"the warehouse you're meeting her in belongs to the White Fang; Cinder'll have told the guards to expect Dallas, leader of the gang that's been working alongside the Fang, not some random schmuck who just so happened to wander into their base of operations; a lot of them tend to be of the 'shoot first, ask questions never' mentality when it comes to humans poking around, too."_

With a wince at the implications, Dallas did as he had been told, checking to make sure there was no one spying on him before he pulled his signature mask out and put it on. With one more look around to be safe, he knocked on a side door to the warehouse, marked with the symbol of the Fang. Within seconds, a small hatch in the door opened at eye level, revealing a man wearing a mask resembling the one Neo had worn on the heist, except it was a dull gray rather than the bright tricolor of the girl's namesake.

"You Dallas?" He asked. Dallas hummed an affirmative, and the hatch closed. A couple seconds later the door opened, the man standing in doorway revealed to be a faunus by his long brown tail.

" _Some sort of big cat, probably,"_ Dallas theorized, _"Maybe a puma?"_ Mentally filing the train of thought away for later, Dallas returned his focus to the issue in front of him. The man that had met him at the front door was leading him through a maze of boxes and shipping crates, heading in the general direction of what looked like an office in the back. Every time they passed another faunus, they would scowl in Dallas' direction, a few even going so far as to growl or hiss at him. Dallas made sure to keep one hand on the pistol holstered underneath his jacket, just in case.

Finally, the grunt stopped at the door to the office, turning to face Dallas.

"The lady's in there. You know what to do."

Dallas nodded, watching him walk off before pushing the door open, entering Cinder's private quarters.

"Dallas," a sultry voice greeted him, "So good to see you again." In the back of the repurposed office, Dallas spotted Cinder lounging in a chair, sipping a glass of wine. "Would you like a glass?" She asked, gesturing to a bottle sitting on the table in front of her.

"No thanks, I'm good." He responded.

"Why don't you sit down; I'd like to talk to you about your… recent exploits."

Dallas spotted a second chair, pitch black leather like her own, and sat down. The chairs were definitely nice; incredibly soft and almost surely loaded with the latest gadgets. Cinder had adopted a posture that was relaxed, yet commanding. An apex predator at rest.

Dallas would have rolled his eyes if he had less self control.

Every time a contractor wanted to talk business, they went through this same song and dance, trying to intimidate the team. At least Akan had been upfront about it.

" _Take the bomb, get on the plane, now fuck off, and get the job done."_

Of course, the crew had then proceeded to double cross him, but that was besides the point.

Dallas was lost in thought for another moment before he realized that neither person had said anything for the better part of a minute, now. Cinder was still looking him over, sizing him up, daring him to go first. So he did.

"By exploits, I assume you mean the bank?" He finally responded.

"Indeed. I must admit, that was a bold move, if nothing else," She purred, "Tell me, what motivated you to conduct such an… audacious heist?" Dallas was silent for a moment, mulling over the hidden implications of the question. Was she angry that they had hit that particular bank? Maybe the money they had taken had been hers, like that one time Hector had the crew break into a bank to the burn the cash.

"Needed the money," He answered simply, "Decided to do what we do best." That seemed to amuse her. At least enough to tell him that she wasn't angry at them.

"Really? How interesting." She shifted her legs, sitting up into a more serious position. Dallas heard the clink of her heels on the ground. "I must admit, when I heard some of the more… fantastical stories of your abilities from Bain, I was sure that he had embellished them quite a bit; but now, I'm beginning to think that maybe he was telling the truth." She held out her palm, conjuring a small spark that she made to dance around her fingers as easily as one might twirl a pen around their fingers. "That said, I have… a new proposition for you." Dallas raised an eyebrow. Just how much was she trying to renegotiate, here? Her goodwill was nice, but it wasn't enough to have the crew robbing banks every other week.

"I might be interested. Depends on what you have to offer." She smiled again. A predatory smile.

"As I understand, the safehouse Roman has supplied you with is rather… cramped." She leaned over to grab a folder from the table, one filled with papers. "I have a list of more high profile targets than your typical Dust shop. Originally, they were simply unjustifiable: too big for Roman to handle, and too heavily guarded for the White Fang, but I believe your team could succeed where the others would fail." Dallas skimmed over the details of the folder. Bulk shipments, to be intercepted before being unloaded from their transports and distributed to the various shops. The crew could easily nab several shops' worth of dust in a single heist if they could pull this off. Of course, higher reward also brought higher risk. The SDC, the company that shipped the dust, employed their own private security teams of military veterans, as well as the occasional hunter dropout. Much higher risk than a few incompetent police and a girl with a minigun.

"So what do we get out of it?" Dallas finally asked. "As much as I'd _love_ to do this for nothing, we don't work for free." Cinder giggled.

"Of course. You will be reimbursed for all the dust you acquire. Furthermore, I can give you… special rewards from time to time, as a favor between associates. Here." She tossed him a small device. A scroll. "Consider this an advance payment. I have organized a new safe house for your crew, one which should have more room to stretch out in. That scroll will unlock the doors, as well as provide you with a direct line of communication to me." Dallas stared at the device in his hands. Either Cinder was taking a big leap of faith with the crew, and she was desperate to get all the 'Dust' she could, or she had enough connections that a safe house of that size was child's play. Neither option was ideal.

"Thanks…" Dallas eventually said, not sure what else to say. "I'll… consider your offer, and get back to you on that." He stood up from the chair, moving to leave.

"And Dallas," Cinder called, the spark in her hand bursting into a miniature ball of flame, "I have a very low tolerance for disappointment."

* * *

Back on the main level of the transport, Bodhi was starting to feel the time crunch of the heist. The crew had only minutes left, and there was still an entire vault to open. There was still significant resistance from what remained of both the Murkywater guards and the remaining Zulus. Wick and Sokol were nearly through their vault, according to Sokol, and Jiro and Bodhi were just arriving to the last vault, thankfully the closest one. Without a word, Jiro slammed the last key card into the reader while Bodhi connected the hard drive to the terminal attached to the vault. He couldn't help but tap his foot impatiently as the computer ran through the dozens of security codes stored on the drive, searching for the correct one.

"C'mon, work, you piece of junk…" He muttered. Finally, with a beep, the terminal found the correct code, activating the thirty second timelock. Taking up a defensive stance around the vault, the two heisters could hear Wick and Sokol over the radio.

" _We've got the device, we're heading back,"_ Sokol yelled, with the sound of gunfire in the background, " _Ah! Blyad, fucking assholes! You missed me!_ " The entire team could hear the sound of his panting as he ran from the squad of soldiers that was chasing him. _"Wick, let's go!"_

From a ways further back in the plane, the sounds of gunfire grew louder, Wick and Sokol being chased as they weaved their way through the maze of dividing curtains and miscellaneous equipment that littered the floor. Finally, the remaining two members of the team appeared from behind a crate, filled with ammunition or some other resource that Murkywater needed transported. Sokol arrived first, with Wick bringing up the rear, taking potshots at anyone who dared to poke their head out. At the same time, the vault beeped, signaling the end of the timelock.

"Sokol, go get the device secure," Bodhi ordered, "Keep our way out secure. We'll be back there in a minute." Sokol grunted an affirmative, readjusting the device on his back as he jogged towards the Humvee. Meanwhile, Bodhi and Jiro got to work pulling open the weighty vault door that kept the last cache of loot secure, using the security head's keys to unlock the vault itself, while Wick did his best to scare off any remaining soldiers.

"Ah! I see you've opened the final vault. That's some real Mayan gold, there." Locke paused for a minute, "Well, Spanish silver, really, but who's keeping track?" There were a few dozen silvery bars, just as Locke said, each one imprinted with the crest of some long gone nobility. It would be a tight fit, not to mention ungodly heavy, but the crew should have been able to carry it all in one trip, assuming Wick took a bag as well.

"Looks like we've got quite the workout ahead of us, boys and girls," Bodhi crowed, tossing the first bag full of loot out of the vault, "Wick, make sure you grab that. We all need to carry a bag to make the deadline."

"Speaking of deadlines, you're hitting yours right about now. You've got exactly five minutes before you miss the drop zone. If that happens, then you chaps are on your own." Locke's voice turned serious, before reverting to his usual cheer, "On that note, I think it would be best to split up a bit yeah? Sokol can do this part while you three hump that beautiful silver back to the truck. I hope you're listening up there."

"Yes, I'm listening. What do you need me to do?"

"Well, it's very simple really. I need you to go to the upper level, head to the back of the plane, and open the plane's rear hatch. You did this last time, didn't you? Just hit the open door button, then hit the dump cargo button." Sokol was quiet for a moment, as was the rest of the crew.

"Locke, I have question. How do we get down?" Locke laughed, and Bodhi could swear it sounded almost sinister.

"Why, you gents will be in the truck, or course. I suggest you strap in tight."

Finally arriving at the Humvee, Bodhi popped the trunk one last time, heaving his bag of silver into the back with Wick and Jiro following suit right after.

"Alright, I'm at the controls. Opening the doors now!" Sokol had to shout to be heard over the turbulence of opening doors. Even from as far forward in the plane as they were, the remaining three members of the crew could feel the air pressure drop. This heist was nearly over.

"Alright, nearly done now. Just hit the button that says 'Jettison Cargo', and run like hell for the truck. God knows it's not going to wait for you," Locke instructed, "You boys in back ready?"

"Ready as we're gonna get," Bodhi replied, "Hit it Sokol!" Suddenly, the entire truck jerked, like the ground it was resting on had shuddered. With a jolt, the contents of the aircraft began to evacuate out the rear, taking anything attached to them along for the ride.

"Hold that door!" Sokol's distinctive accent cut over the din of turbulence and metal squealing on metal. Wick, sitting in the back seat, threw open the door, allowing the young heister to hop in and latch a seatbelt just in time for the Humvee, cargo and all, to get pitched over the edge of the ramp.

The thoughts going through the minds of the four men varied wildly, all settling somewhere in the territory of 'Holy Shit!', but the things coming out of their mouths universally resembled a screech; one of exhilaration in Bodhi's case, and mortal terror in Sokol's.

After several seconds of freefall, the drogue chute attached to the roof of the vehicle activated, orienting it right side up for the main parachutes attached to the pallet to activate, slamming four masked men's' heads onto the upholstery. Following several seconds of terrified silence, punctuated by the creaking of the ropes keeping the crew from slamming into the ground at terminal velocity, Sokol finally broke the silence.

By cracking the window and immediately expelling the contents of his stomach into the wild blue yonder. Bodhi cracked up at the combination of adrenaline and the young russian's misfortune.

"Alright, Locke," He finally wheezed, "Mission fucking accomplished." He cracked the window himself, sticking his head out as if to shout at the debris that continued to fall from the transport on occasion.

" _It's Payday, boys!"_

* * *

 **WELL GUESS WHO FUCKED UP THIS TIME?**

 **It's me. I fucked up. I severely overestimated the free time I would have over break, and underestimated my self control when it came to playing video games. I got sucked back into Destiny _hard_ , and ended up spending the first half of the week doing nothing but that. Then I went up to visit family, and had way less free time there than I expected. Apparently it's _unacceptable_ to _isolate myself from my family on the computer._ But hey, got to see my baby cousins, which is nice.**

 **Anyway, take this extra long chapter as penance, and I'll get to work on the next one ASAP.**

 **However, regarding two things:**

 **Firstly, school is revving up for me for finals, so updates will continue to be rather sporadic until early May. (Good luck to everyone else who has to deal with finals and such like me) I'll try to update when I can, and it hopefully won't be as bad as it has been, but no promises. I'll write when I can, when there's less homework to do and less tests to worry about.**

 **Secondly: Synthetic Souls, that Fallout/RWBY crossover I was talking about.**

 **The response has been pretty overwhelmingly negative to the idea of a second story so soon, and this last week has sealed the deal. Starting a second story, I can agree, would be pretty bad idea at the moment. I may reconsider once school gets out, but for now I'm probably not going to work on it to make sure I can update this story reasonably consistently, if possible.**

 **I may work on it, or one of a couple of one/two/whatever shots I've had ideas for as something to do to beat writer's block, or just to switch it up sometimes, but nothing serious. Never say I don't at least try to listen to you guys.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **(EDIT)**

 **Also, I forgot that I was going to explain this, cuz I was tired last night when I uploaded this chapter (It was like 1:00 AM, cut me some slack), but a lot of people seem to have misinterpreted Glynda's presence at the press conference in the last chapter. She was only there as a spokesperson for Ozpin, not as a member of the taskforce herself. He's a busy guy, and he can't always attend every single event that requests his presence, so Glynda had to go in his stead. I suppose I should have probably made it more clear, but no, don't expect Glynda to show up any time soonish. Not saying she won't show up at all, just not now.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N- God, I'm so fuckijn sorry guys I swear I didn't mean to take this long**

* * *

"So… You're saying that Cinder wasn't just not mad about the heist, she _gave you a new job?_ " Roman was incredulous. "I gotta hand to you, you guys certainly know how to keep things interesting. If I were you she'd have roasted me to a crisp for something like that." Dallas chuckled at the offhand compliment.

"Yeah, well..." He pulled out the set of keys Cinder had gifted him, "She gave us a house too." Roman choked on his coffee.

"I… I'm not going to lie, that's just impressive. I don't think that woman cares about her own family that much, let alone a bunch of strangers," He stood up, moving to inspect the keys for himself, "So, is she just pawning off some old condemned on you, or what?"

"No idea, haven't gone to check it out yet. Knowing her type, it's probably bugged though," Roman nodded.

"Of course. I don't doubt she's planning out how to dispose of you the second you stop being useful. She'll toss us _all_ out the second she doesn't need us." He stood up, meandering over to the nearby couch that had been repurposed as Houston's bed, "I'd say don't even bother checking it out, but…" He gestured to the living room. Indeed, Roman's safehouse had become a bit cramped since the four had moved in. Between Houston commandeering the couch as his bed, and the morning rush for everyone to get a chance at the bathroom, it was becoming _very_ clear that tensions were growing thin. It was probably for the best that the crew found somewhere else to sleep soon, if nothing else.

"Well, we can't very well have Cinder getting wind of our… _side work,_ " Roman finally muttered, deep in thought, "We got lucky this time, but I doubt she'll be quite so lenient with our hard earned Lien if she catches wind of our next heist. Though, if you never use the place, she'll know something's up." Roman turned to Dallas. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" Dallas scoffed, pocketing the keys, "I think we should see what kinda place it is before we make any decisions."

"An excellent idea, if I do say so myself," Roman replied, pulling his own keys out of a pocket, "Shall we?"

* * *

"So… This is it, huh? Real nice present Cinder gave you guys." Roman had a wry smile. The _new_ safehouse Cinder had provided had turned out to be a dilapidated old warehouse, covered with graffiti, its windows boarded or barred over. Dallas hummed.

"Maybe. Let's see what the inside looks first."

Roman chuckled.

"It's what's on the inside that counts, am I right? Alright then, let's go give it a little look-see."

After finally getting past the front door (with some heavy duty locks, he noted), Dallas had to admit that it _was_ what was on the inside that counts.

The "front door" of sorts opened into a large and well decorated common room, complete with what looked like the latest in home entertainment systems. The room opened into the kitchen, which was equally decked out with fancy gadgets. Roman whistled appreciatively.

"Forget what I said about surveillance. Take the house, and invite me over while you're at it." Dallas groaned, but began inspecting the room anyway. "Looking for bugs? No matter how many you find, there'll probably be more. The easy to find ones are just to throw you off." Roman ambled over to the fridge, grabbing a soda and popping the top.

"Believe me, I know just how easy it is to hide bugs…" Dallas muttered. He couldn't help but remember the job at the senator's apartment the crew had hit a couple years back. With cameras that could get small enough to be hidden in a painting, just about every object in the house bigger than a matchbox was suspect. It wouldn't hurt to give the building a cursory once-over anyway. "This room seems clean enough… let's see the rest." He said, moving down the hall with Torchwick following behind. Soon, the two came to a handful of rooms.

"Well damn, I'm starting to think that Cinder's got a crush on you or something," Roman gawked, "That's a Huntsman grade workshop right there. You barely ever see anything this nice outside the academies." Dallas had to admit, it was a nice place. The shop was a massive room, filled to the brim with all sorts of tools for the maintenance of weapons. It even had its own shooting range, soundproofed of course.

Chains and Wolf were going to have a fucking field day with all this gear.

Moving on, Dallas found a staircase leading to a second level. To one side was a wide open room, furnished with only a handful of chairs and tables. It would've made for a good common room, if the crew had any real use for one. As it was, it would make a great room for planning out future heists.

"...Just needs a few upgrades…" Dallas muttered.

"You said something?" Torchwick looked over from his own inspection of the room, shooting Dallas an inquisitive look.

"Yeah, I was thinking this would be a good room for planning out jobs in the future. It's missing a few things though," Dallas moved over to one wall, already planning out the new layout of the room, "Shouldn't be too hard to get, though."

"What, not good enough for you?" Roman mocked, "Doesn't have the requisite _'wine and caviar bar'_ that you just can't live without?"

"Alright, alright," Dallas groaned, "I get it. I think we've seen enough here. Let's get the rest of the crew and bring 'em over. This is their home now, too." He turned back towards the stairs, Roman following behind.

"So it's a keeper then?"

" _It had better be,_ " He grumbled to himself, " _because I'm not letting you stay in my safehouse anymore if you've got this place..."_

* * *

"So, we've got this device… thing…" Hoxton held up the device for the crew to see before setting it on the table. A bit smaller than a loot bag, the little device had been a pain in the crew's ass for quite a while now. There was just one problem…

"How do we use it to bring the guys back?"

"If you'd just let me speak…" Bain's voice came over the phone, "I was about to tell you."

"Well? Get it on with, then." Hoxton shot back.

"That's what… Nevermind," Bain sighed, "Anyway, now that we have the device, we have the ability to bring the crew back-"

"Then let's do it!" Hoxton interrupted, picking the device again and fiddling with the buttons, "There's only a couple buttons, it can't be that hard to figure out, right?"

"Stop that!" Bain shouted, "We don't know how that thing works or how to use it! We don't want the rest of the team to end up missing too!"

Slowly, glaring at the receiver that acted as a stand-in for Bain, Hoxton put the device back on the table.

"Right... " Bain breathed, "So, we have the device, but we don't know how to use it. The easiest way to fix this problem would be to find someone who does know and ask him. Naturally, even if we knew the guy, I doubt he's going to just hand over the owner's manual, so we have to do things the hard way. Once we find the guy, we're going to have to bring him back here, and force him to do whatever he has to do to bring the guys back." Bain paused, letting the plan sink in. "At least, that's the rough plan; We can figure out the rest as we go. Dismissed." With that, the assembled crew began to disperse, each individual returning to their own hobbies or tasks, with the exception of Hoxton.

"Hey, Bain, how _are_ the guys doin'?

Bain chuckled,

"You really do care about them don't you?"

Hoxton sputtered,

"What? No! I mean- Look," He sighed, "I… I owe 'em this much. They broke me outta prison, I'm gonna get them back from wherever the hell they are, it's what they'd do for me. _Even if one of 'em did try to replace me._ " He muttered.

"Well, you don't need to worry, the guys are doing just fine. Got themselves a new safehouse and everything." Hoxton looked up, surprised.

"Really? Next you'll be tellin' me they went and replaced me again, too…" He chuckled at his own joke, trailing off as he noticed that Bain hadn't joined him. "Bain…?"

"Well…"

"Bain don't you fuckin' tell me..."

" _Not exactly…_ "

"Oh god fucking dammit, Bain what did they do?"

"They've got a new member; girl who goes by _'Neo'_." Bain said, a little quickly. Almost instantly, the tension began fading from Hoxton's face.

"Oh." He finally said, "I guess that's alright, then. Just as long as they aren't tryin' to replace me with another new 'Hoxton' again…"

"Oh, don't worry. You're still the one true Hox in our hearts," Bain joked.

"You're goddamn right I am. And don't let nobody forget it."

* * *

The move into the new safehouse had gone quickly and quietly, thanks to the crew's general lack of possessions at the moment. With their few personal effects officially moved into their new home, the crew had quickly set about making the place more "homey". Chains and Wolf were already occupying themselves down in the workshop, and Houston was out on a run to the store. Even with all the gadgets that had come with the safehouse, the fridge had been completely barren. Dallas, naturally, had already set to work planning the next heist.

Cinder wanted the crew to step up their heists, it seemed, and the only way to make the kind of quota she had set was to move up from knocking off local dust stores to hitting the suppliers directly. While Dallas was never one to ignore a shot at a bigger payday, he was wary of the risks. These shipments would certainly have better security than a simple alarm system. Private guards at the least, but based on what he had been able to find, probably much more.

The "SDC", as it was called, seemed to have a near monopoly on the Dust trade. Naturally, that meant that they had the resources to defend their property, and if the news was anything to go by, they had the resolve to use it, too. If the crew were going after any of these targets, things would almost certainly end up going very loud.

"Torchwick, what can you tell me about the SDC's security forces?" Dallas asked, turning to the redheaded thief.

"The SDC, huh?" Roman stroked his chin in thought, "Well, I can tell you that they're much worse than anything the police can toss at us. A lot of them are retired Atlesian military, even a few huntsmen dropouts. Aura's standard issue for all employees, but it's not the same level of protection as a hunter."

Hopefully that would work in their favor. In the few times the crew had gone up against a hunter, they had been extremely lucky; one turned out to be just a trainee, and the other had been dealt with by their resident pyrokinetic boss. Dallas was not eager to test their luck against one by themselves.

"What about armor, weapons, that kind of thing?" He finally asked.

"Schnee mostly equips their security teams with outdated and surplus gear from Atlas. They've got military grade weaponry, but their body armor's a joke," Torchwick proclaimed, "I mean, who needs bulletproof vests when you've got aura, am I right?" He chuckled at his own joke. "Anyway, it might protect them from a few bullets, but they're more geared towards killing Grimm than people. What you really need to look out for is their security droids."

"Droids?" Dallas asked, confused.

"Yeah. Part of the Atlesian surplus that the SDC uses is a bunch of old Knight-130s. Probably outnumber the human guards five-to-one."

"How strong are they?"

"Not very," Roman chuckled, "They're better for deterrence than actually fighting for the most part. They've all got the standard kit, automatics guns and blades for hands. They aren't very strong though. Their big advantage is that they've got numbers on anyone they fight; not all that different from Grimm, really."

"Right. Okay. We can handle that." Dallas sighed. He looked back at the schedule Cinder had given the team. The first shipment they could hit was a train heading out from Vale in a few weeks. Apparently, it would be making stops along the way to Vacuo, unloading supplies to be distributed to smaller towns and villages. The Dust among those supplies was their target. The whole setup reminded him of the heists the crew had pulled on those military transports a few months back.

Actually, that gave him an idea…

"Get the rest of the crew over here," Dallas ordered, "I've got a plan."

* * *

"Alright, so, on Cinder's orders, we're going to start hitting bigger targets than what we have been. That means more money for us when all's said and done though, so listen up." Dallas looked around at the collected group of hardened criminals. And also Roman. "Our first target's a transport train heading out of town in a few weeks; it's loaded with supplies, including the Dust we're after. We'll be hitting like when we snatched that military prototype a few months back. We find a good spot to stop the train, and while they're distracted, we jump on." Dallas gestured to a board with several images of similar trains tacked to it, annotated with possible entrances, vantage points and other tactical information. The trailers were a mix of covered and flatbeds carrying multi-colored shipping containers.

"How're we gonna get the Dust out?" Houston asked.

"According to Torchwick, the dust should be stored in crates on the train. What we'll do is load 'em into the shipping containers on the flatbeds, and then airlift the whole thing out. We can toss or sell on whatever's already in the containers for extra money."

"We know how we're getting out, but how're we going in?" Chains interjected.

"The plan is to stop the train far enough away from any help that we can be gone before backup can arrive, so we're going in loud. Take care of the crew before they can raise the alarm and get out quickly."

The rest of the crew nodded in agreement, the general idea of the plan already committed to memory.

"Alright," Dallas finally sighed, "You all know your jobs, so get to it. I don't know if we'll need 'em, but make sure the drills are ready to go, Wolf."

The Swede grunted in confirmation, already halfway to his workbench.

"Torchwick, if we want to do this fast, we'll need some guys to pick up the containers and take possession of them after we lift them out. Think you can handle that?"

Roman nodded, pulling out his scroll.

"I'm sure I can convince Cinder to spare a few White Fang Bullheads and pilots. They can stash the containers and take care of… whatever she wants all this Dust for."

"Good. Alright, I think that's it." Dallas stood up, rubbing his neck. "Now, I need a drink…"

* * *

"Alright boys and girls, I've got good news and less good news. You may recall a 'Doctor Klein' as the man behind the machine behind our recent, eh… issues." Bain paused, letting the information sink in. "Well, I've finally found him. Problem is, he seems to have caught onto our plan. He's convinced that we're coming after him, and gotten the FBI to stick him in Witness Protection, much like our dear old friend Hector. They've done a lot of the same work to protect him; a safehouse guarded twenty-four seven, and a panic room. Nothing we haven't dealt with before. Only difference is that we _need_ this guy alive and compliant. I can't stress this enough guys; He's the only one who knows how the device works. If we lose this guy, then we lose our only way to get the guys home besides trial and error, and I'd rather not accidentally send someone to deep space."

"Alright then," Hoxton interrupted, "We know this guy's gonna come kicking and screaming, so we may as well not even bother with all that sneakin' around bullshit. That means goin' in guns blazing in full armor. I want Rust, Dragan, and Bonnie with me on this one."

"Hox's got a point," Bain mused, "This guy's going to be so twitchy that he's probably already hit the panic button on accident a couple of times. You guys would definitely be best off with the heaviest armor you can carry. I'll send you in with the Thermic Lance and keep Bile on standby with the helicopter. Just tie him up and toss him on. We need him one piece, but I doubt anyone'll cry if he gets a few bumps here and there. As long as he can still help us, I don't really care. Chances are he's going to end up looking like the Taxman once we're through with him, anyway."

The room went silent as the crew remembered the the condition the Taxman had been left in a few months ago.

"That settles it, then." Hoxton finally said. "We've got a plan; won't be that hard to kidnap one fuckin' scientist, yeah?"

" _We can hope, Hox,"_ Bain muttered quietly, _"But you know what they say about the best laid plans…"_

* * *

 **Holy shit, it's been what? Two months and counting? I am really fucking sorry about this guys, seriously. And I finally come back with this... dumpster fire of a half chapter.**

 **You're likely thinking something along the lines of _"Nemo, you are a terrible person, and will never achieve your dreams of living as a hermit alone in the woods, completely independent of any and all outside influences and finally free of the chronic aneurysm that is american politics."_**

 **And you would be partially correct. I am indeed a terrible person. However, I am also the sort of person who will stick to my principles no matter what.**

 **To that end, I assure once and for all that I will _NOT_ abandon this story. If I do, it simply opens up the door for me to do it again in the future, and then I'll hate myself even more. So even if my annual shot of enthusiasm for PAYDAY that swings around every fall has worn off a bit, I'm still working on this fic. At the very least, if I really can't keep up with it, I'll post a rough outline of what I had planned for the rest. But that's worst case scenario.**

 **For those of you more concerned with _why_ this took so long, the answer to that is a very long list of things. Too long to include here, but some highlights include:**

 **-Computer Repairs**

 **-Testing/School**

 **-Minor Medical issues ( _Don't worry, it's dealt with. Probably.)_**

 **-Writer's Block**

 **And most importantly**

 **-I'm just a piece of shit who won't fucking sit down and write sometimes even though I should and I have literally nothing better to do.**

 **That said, I've got most of these issues pretty well sorted now, so I can hopefully start pumping out a chapter a week or so for the rest of the summer.**

 **I'm two for two on that, so far. (Check out my other story, _Synthetic Souls_ , btw)**

 **Anyway, I'm going to also say that this chapter was a particular bitch to write because of my own deficiencies in planning ahead. I know where I want to end up a few chapters from now, but not entirely how to get there. Or at least I didn't. Now I have the next two action packed chapters thought up and ready to go, and from there we start to hook back up to the main plot a bit. (Hint hint)**

 **I won't guarantee that this won't happen again, but it shouldn't happen any time soon, at least.**

 **Also, I've gone ahead with switching off on two stories over the summer at least. I might Hiatus one once school starts up, but that's a few months away. Who knows, I may even have this one finished by then. At the rate this is going, it's not looking to exceed around 20-25 chapters. But hey, that just means no hiatuses.**

 **Anyway, tl;dr I'm back, I'm a piece of shit, and I'm here to stay. For now.**


End file.
